


suburban dream

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Happy Credence Barebone, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Original Percival Graves, Police Officer Original Percival Graves, Surveillance, Top Original Percival Graves, Undercover, very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Percival Graves must survive being undercover in suburbia, Tina Goldstein, and a young man named Credence whose smile may just unravel him at the seams.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 24
Kudos: 102





	suburban dream

If Graves doesn’t lose his mind over the next two months, he thinks it’ll be a miracle.  
  
It’s quiet outside, in the way he isn’t used to, not surrounded by skyscrapers and the endless, endless traffic, car horns blazing and people screaming obscenities at each other or at the world in general. It’s music to his ears, having lived in it for so long, but out here… out here, this silence will drive him mad.   
  
Suburbia.   
  
Rochester is, well… _shit,_ he thinks sourly, and it will always be shit. Huge, sprawling yards and equally huge, two story homes, too much room in them, too much, _too damn much._ But he’s stuck here for now, and as he watches Tina Goldstein pace in front of him, he feels his eye begin to twitch.   
  
It’s not quiet _inside_ and he’d give anything for the trade-off.   
  
“Alright!” he finally shouts.   
  
Tina abruptly stops pacing and purses her lips as she looks at him. “I’m just saying, sir—”   
  
“I heard you say it the first five times,” Graves says grouchily. “I think you’re being way too fucking paranoid.”   
  
“The Chief forbade it!”   
  
“Inside, Goldstein, _inside,_ not out— you know what? Forget it. Forget it. I will go do it,” Graves says as he stands from the sofa with quite a lot of effort, bracing his hand on his thigh, and takes in a deep, fortifying breath. “If I fuck anything up, it’s on you.”   
  
“Didn’t you used to live in a place just like this?” Tina asks tiredly as she sits on the sofa in his place.   
  
Graves sighs. “A very, very long time ago, and my father hired people to do everything around the place,” he says and scowls. “Including fixing a goddamn sprinkler head.”   
  
“Just look it up on your phone, they’re supposed to be easy.”   
  
“You are more than welcome to go do it yourself.”   
  
“Are you kidding? Miss Noseybody on the corner already suggested I divorce you when she saw me trying to carry the armchair inside while you laughed at me.”   
  
Graves laughs a little. “It was funny,” he says and smirks as she shoots him a glare. “I’m sure you didn’t bother telling her I’m recovering from being shot.”   
  
Tina shrugs. “I think that may have qualified as _suspicious._ Besides, you’re supposed to be moving around as much as you can right now,” she says and waves at him. “You’re almost completely recovered.”   
  
“Except for not being able to move any faster than a fucking sloth, yeah, I’m almost completely recovered,” Graves says. “I expect dinner when I’m done.”   
  
“Pizza?”   
  
“I’m trying _very_ hard not to grow a beer gut while we’re here and you don’t help matters when you order pizza three times a week.”   
  
“No one’s telling you to eat half of it in one sitting.”   
  
Graves waves dismissively and walks out of the spacious living room toward the garage. He tries to remember to bend his knee, as his physical therapist so loves to remind him to do, so he stretches the muscles in his thigh. If he ever plans to be completely mobile again, he knows he’s going to have to go through a little pain to get there.   
  
He’d been lucky to only have muscle damage rather than any blown arteries or shattered bone. But gunshot wounds aren’t like the movies. He’s been out of commission for four months already and has only just been allowed to go undercover. He’s only allowed to do one thing right now _while_ undercover - surveillance, and even that is just because they’ve made it look like he’s no longer part of the NYPD - but it’s better than sitting on his sofa back in his apartment and drinking the day away.   
  
Seraphina neglected to tell him going undercover meant taking Tina Goldstein with him and posing as a married couple, but she always has loved to surprise and horrify him at every turn.   
  
They’re getting on as well as a house on fire, their wildly different living habits clashing at every turn, and Graves would take her badge, if he didn’t know he was a surly bastard to begin with.   
  
Tina _is_ actually a blessing and he has made sure to mention that now and then. They’re both neat, the one thing they have in common, but she does most of the cleaning if he promises to do his exercises every night, and she takes the majority of night shifts. His leg bothers him most at night and he often needs to take painkillers that knock him out shortly after.   
  
He tries to cook, tries to mow the lawn and not bother her during the day, to make up for it, but he knows he’s not pleasant company. Hasn’t been for four months and it’s a miracle, really, that anyone has bothered to keep checking on him.   
  
So he’ll complain, but he’ll fix the sprinkler head, because it’s been leaking every morning, turning into a huge puddle in the corner of the front yard, killing the grass. He’s seen the way the neighbors eye him when he’s outside, judging him for not having a pristine lawn, and is reminded for the thousandth time why apartment living is far superior to this nonsense.   
  
Graves walks into the garage, a novel thing to own by itself, and opens the door. He pulls out his phone and browses through youtube for a while as he stretches his leg, and looks for the tools he needs. He’s not completely useless when it comes to fixing things, he just doesn’t do it that often, with the convenience of a maintenance crew in his apartment building and being too damn busy to do it himself anyway.   
  
Once he’s got his tote full of tools, he pulls his outer shirt off, because it’s July and baking hot, and if he doesn’t sweat off the calories for pizza later, he may just perish instead and not have to worry about them anyway.   
  
Graves walks to the left corner of the frankly ridiculously large plot of grass that takes him ages to mow, looking at the small amount of water around the sprinkler head. It’s hot enough that it’s disappearing quickly, but the grass does look ugly, yellow and sad.   
  
“Alright, you fucker,” Graves says as he sits down and pulls out his phone. “Let’s fix you.”   
  
It’s not all that difficult, when Graves finally realizes what’s actually wrong with it half an hour later, sprinkler heads having come a long way from the last time he lived anywhere with a yard.   
  
Tina comes outside through the garage. “You fix it?” she asks as she walks to him, handing him a water bottle.   
  
“No,” Graves says as he takes it. “Because it needs to be replaced.”   
  
“Damn,” Tina sighs. “Do you want me to go to the hardware store?”   
  
“I can do it later, when it’s not so fucking hot,” Graves says as he airs his tank top a little. “Replacing it should be easy.”   
  
“And if it’s not, I’ll know my husband is good for the view, if nothing else,” Tina says as she pats his shoulder.   
  
Graves smiles shortly. “I’m going to tell Newtonian you said that.”   
  
“Stop calling him that. At least _he’s_ nice to me,” Tina says but she’s laughing. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”   
  
“Dream of me,” Graves says as he opens the water bottle.   
  
“I truly hope I don’t,” Tina says as she heads back inside.   
  
He’s in the middle of taking a drink and scanning the neighborhood when he notices that they weren’t quite as alone as he had thought they were. The house directly to his right has a large oak tree planted in the middle of the yard and there’s a man sitting under it, reading a book, dressed in a black sweatshirt and black jeans.   
  
Graves grimaces, mostly because he can’t imagine how hot that must be, but also because the man is peering at him from over his book and Graves doesn’t need anyone spying on his and Tina’s conversations for a variety of safety reasons.   
  
He quickly looks back at his book when he notices Graves has spotted him.   
  
Graves recognizes him, of course. He knows everyone in this neighborhood, even if they don’t know him, having gotten thoroughly familiar with each household before they moved in. They’re surveilling the house across the street for illegal activities, ranging from organized crime to drug dealing to petty theft. Their job is to gather evidence so they can actually put these people away when the time comes for it and make sure it sticks.   
  
The man is Credence Rose. He’s twenty-two years old, on summer break from NYU, and is the adopted son of the couple that owns the home. He had been adopted as a young child out of the foster care system, and thrown back in at some point, likely due to abuse, until the Roses had taken him in at twelve. They’re approaching their sixties, likely could never conceive or didn’t for whatever reason, but Credence has no criminal record.   
  
Beyond being unreasonably attractive, which Graves had noticed fairly quickly and promptly shoved to the back of his mind. Not only because they are fifteen years apart in age and that makes him feel like a dirty old man, but he is strictly forbidden from _unprofessionalism_ while he’s here.   
  
“She’s fonder of me than she might seem,” Graves says when he catches Credence looking over his book again.   
  
Credence’s ears flush a charming red and he lowers his book to his lap, squinting a little as he eyes Graves.   
  
“How long have you been married?” he asks, his voice soft and kind, curious.   
  
“Seven... glorious, glorious years,” Graves says as he thinks of when she joined his department. It was the easiest way to choose a date they could both remember. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting. Percy Reid.”   
  
“Mister Reid,” Credence says and licks his lips, a nervous gesture, one Graves has seen far too many times in his career. “My name is Credence.”   
  
“Your mother mentioned you’re going to be starting your last year at NYU this fall,” Graves says as he straightens his leg with a wince. “Liberal arts, wasn’t it?”   
  
Credence nods. “Photography,” he says, with some wariness.   
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Hell of a school for a photography degree,” he says and when Credence’s lips thin, he realizes why he was wary. “Not that that’s a bad thing. It’ll be impressive on a resume.”   
  
“Thankfully I’ve been hired for a few projects already,” Credence says and turns back to his book. “Once I’m done with my thesis year, I’ll be going to Beijing.”   
  
Graves blinks and takes another drink of his water. “You’re photographing the Olympics?”   
  
“For the _Times,”_ Credence says as he flips a page rather pointedly.   
  
Properly chastened, Graves laughs. “Congratulations,” he says. “That’s incredible. How long have you been working toward that?”   
  
Credence glances at him and bites his lip. “For nine years,” he says. “When my parents gave me a camera for Christmas.”   
  
His first Christmas with them, Graves thinks, but won’t say. “Your mother was very proud of you when she spoke about you,” he says with a smile. He carefully gets onto his feet and hobbles a little as his thigh screams in protest from sitting in the same position for too long. “I’ll be sure to look for that edition of the _Times.”_   
  
“What happened?” Credence asks as Graves gathers his tools. He’s faintly pink around the nose as Graves glances at him, like he thinks he’s crossed a line in asking.   
  
Graves has already managed to insult him, so he won’t do it again. “Work injury,” he says. “My fault, but we don’t tell workers comp that.”   
  
Credence smiles as he looks down at his book again and Graves would swoon a little, might actually be doing so, if it’s not the heat, because his smile is wide, rather beautiful, and Graves has been out of commission _for too damn long._   
  
“It was nice to meet you, Mister Reid,” Credence says as he looks back at Graves when he begins to drag himself up the driveway.   
  
“You too, Credence,” Graves says as he looks at him. It’s not hard to see that Credence’s gaze lingers and Graves’ own might linger, but he’s got a wife to think about now. He merely winks and heads back into the garage.   
  
He drops his tools off and closes the garage door and walks into the blessed coolness of the home. And, with quite a lot of annoyance, he manages to drag himself upstairs and into the guest bathroom to take an even colder shower.   
  
Tina had won the coin toss for the master bedroom and it still smarts, just a little.   
  
——   
  
Graves manages to run into Credence later that evening.   
  
He’d gone to the hardware store after the sun had finally gone down and found a replacement sprinkler head and glared at anyone that tried to approach him. It’s easier to earn the reputation of the neighborhood asshole, so he can avoid any unnecessary discussion with neighbors, than to become friendly with them. He’ll let Tina do that.   
  
Graves parks his truck in the driveway and gets out with a few curses. He’s only just picked up driving again because his response time is fine behind the wheel, unlike anywhere else. He’d talked his chief into letting him have the truck because it’s roomier and has a step he can use to get in and out.   
  
He opens the back door and pulls out the bag with the sprinkler head in it, just as something touches the back of his leg, and it would make him jump out of his skin, if he didn’t hear the obnoxious panting of a dog that went along with it.   
  
Graves looks around and at a little Pomeranian, the cream-colored kind, its dark eyes wide and friendly as it jumps against his leg.   
  
He’s more fond of bigger dogs because these ones sound like nails on a chalkboard when they bark, but thankfully this one is only staring at him, like he’s expecting a treat.   
  
“Sorry,” he hears as Credence appears in his yard again, half-jogging toward him. “That’s Jabba. Not going to bite you.”   
  
“I’m not worried about him biting me,” Graves says with a smirk. “Jabba?”   
  
Credence winces as Jabba the Pomeranian jumps on his legs next and reaches down to pick him up. “My dad wanted a pit bull and my mom wanted a Pomeranian,” he says. “After that compromise didn’t work, she let him name her.”   
  
“Her,” Graves laughs, with more genuine amusement than he has for a while. Credence shakes his head but he’s smiling rather helplessly as well. “Well, she’s friendly.”   
  
“A demon once you get to know her,” Credence says as he looks at the ground, rather than at Graves. “Do you need help?”   
  
“Hmm?” Graves hums as he blinks. He shakes his head when Credence gestures at the bag in his hand. “Ah. No, thank you. I’m not as helpless as I might seem at first glance.” He smirks. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”   
  
Credence nods as he looks at Graves, still smiling. “Are you going to be at the block party?”   
  
“Block party?” Graves repeats. He’s about to ask if that’s actually a real thing people do before he vaguely remembers Tina flashing a paper invitation at him. “I… don’t think so,” he says slowly. “Unless Tina plans on it, but she hasn’t said anything. When is it?”   
  
Credence is pursing his lips, to hide a smile, Graves suspects. “Missus Reid said you’d be there with a side dish,” he says and coughs a little as Graves gapes at him. “My parents put it on, so…” He shrugs. “It’s on Saturday.”   
  
“Shit,” Graves mutters. “Still unpacking and all that, I suppose I forgot.”   
  
It’s a blatant lie and he’s tempted to go inside and yell at Tina for a while.   
  
“Isn’t it too hot for a block party?”   
  
“It’s supposed to be seventy on Saturday,” Credence says. “But we have portable canopies and misters…” He laughs at whatever displeasure must be on Graves’ face. “You don’t _have_ to go.”   
  
“No… yes, I mean, I do,” Graves says. “Tina will expect me there.”   
  
He knows the people they are surveilling will not likely be there, they’re not the types, and it’s always risky, getting that close anyway. Tina must want to establish the Reids in the neighborhood and Graves is rather annoyed, because he must have signed off on it at some point and has completely forgotten.   
  
“You don’t even have to fake an injury,” Credence says.   
  
Graves chuckles and shrugs. “No,” he says. “I guess I wouldn’t. But it would be rude to not be there. So I suppose I’ll see you on Saturday.”   
  
“See you then,” Credence says, as Jabba looks happily between them. “Good night, Mister Reid.”   
  
“Good night, Credence,” Graves says and watches him go, still dressed like it’s fall rather than summer. He shakes his head and goes inside, keeping quiet, because Tina won’t be up for a couple more hours.   
  
He’ll blame everything on her then.   
  
——   
  
Besides being woken up at five in the morning on Friday by Tina knocking loudly on his door and informing him the sprinkler had broken further and was shooting water ten feet into the air, Graves’ next day goes by well.   
  
Until evening, of course.   
  
It’s nine and Tina will be awake in an hour or so for her shift, which will only be half a night, considering she has volunteered for them to be _social._   
  
She says Graves gave her two thumbs up and a dashing wink and he distinctly does not remember that, but she also tells him it was shortly after he took a percocet and followed it with a shot of whiskey.   
  
Coercion and betrayal of the highest level, but he’ll find a way to get her back before too long.   
  
“The eggs should be done, honey.”   
  
Graves looks into the boiling pot on the stove and nods. He drains them and sets them on a plate, wincing a little at the smell, something he’s never quite adapted to, despite hard-boiled eggs being a staple in the Graves’ family household when he was a child.   
  
“And then the potatoes for… how long again?”   
  
“Seven minutes about,” Queenie says through a yawn.   
  
“Why are you yawning? You have no right to yawn, you’re on your lunch break. I should be yawning and not making potato fucking salad,” Graves says and scowls at his iPad that he has propped up against the toaster oven.   
  
Queenie’s face grins back at him. “You know I’m workin’ second shift right now, honey, you put me on it, and I’m still trying to get used to it,” she says and giggles. “You’re doin’ good.”   
  
“I have boiled eggs and diced potatoes,” Graves says as he gets the large pot going with water again. “I should’ve gone to the store. I shouldn’t have let you and Tina talk me out of it.”   
  
“I can promise you store bought ain’t nothing compared to my potato salad, Percy,” Queenie says with a smile. “You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood.”   
  
“Oh, good,” he says, smiling sweetly back at her. “Exactly the way it shouldn’t be.”   
  
“Quit complaining! You’re just a monster lately, aren’t you, honey?” Queenie says, but she’s laughing. “Whisk the mayo, celery salt, mustard and pickle relish together. Then dice up the eggs into bite-sized pieces.”   
  
Graves grumbles a little at that but he grabs the ingredients Queenie had him line up on the kitchen island before they started, measured out already. He tosses everything in a bowl and whisks it together as Queenie watches him, occasionally taking a bite of her lunch.   
  
“What is that?”   
  
“Sushi.”   
  
“Oh, God. Even you?”   
  
“It’s as good as they all say, honey,” Queenie shrugs as she pops another bite into her mouth. “You just gotta give it a chance.”   
  
“I have eaten enough fish in my life to know that it is not as good as they all say,” Graves mutters as he sets the bowl aside and begins to crack the eggshells. “You could stick me up someone’s ass and I could tell you their temperature.”   
  
Queenie chokes a little before she bursts into a fit of laughter. “Oh, honey,” she says. “What’s got your blood boiling?”   
  
“Besides the mercury?” Graves asks as he glances at the iPad. He shrugs. “Living with your sister. Not being able to do anything other than that. No more morning jogs. Climbing up the stairs is going to kill me one of these days. I have to go to a block party, because those aren’t just the nightmares of Hollywood writers, and I’m fairly sure the kid next door would jump me if I gave him a chance.”   
  
He says that last part more quietly, glancing furtively out toward the living room and stairs, but the house is quiet.   
  
“When you say kid…?”   
  
“Twenty-two.”   
  
Queenie grimaces sympathetically. “Teenie always gave me a hard time, when I was that age, because I was always chasin’ after older gentlemen. Would have married one if she hadn’t talked me out of it. There’s just something about men your age when you’re in your early twenties for some people.”   
  
“Men my age,” Graves mutters and curses as he breaks an egg white. “I’m not even forty and I’m at _men my age_ status. Anyway, he’s the neighbor. Pretty sure my window faces his own.”   
  
“Aww, how romantic.”   
  
“So romantic that I’m sleeping in the guest room and not the master bedroom with my wife. I’m never opening the blinds,” Graves says as he holds up a shelled egg victoriously. He starts on the next one. “I’m not going to give him the chance, by the way.”   
  
“I didn’t ask,” Queenie says through another yawn. “The scandal would be somethin’, though, wouldn’t it?”   
  
“Perps would probably approve of me after that,” Graves says with a sigh. “How’s Fontaine managing lately?”   
  
“Good,” Queenie says. “He’s a little less hot-blooded than you are, so everyone’s not as jumpy. Kinda nice, actually. Maybe your convalescence will soften you up a bit.”   
  
Graves huffs. “If you think I’m coming out of this softened, you’ve got another thing coming,” he says and sets another egg aside. He’s glad he only has six to do, no patience for this sort of cooking. “Has Seraphina been interfering?”   
  
“Not really,” Queenie says. “Not while you two are out there. She’ll be back to doing that when you come home.”   
  
He nods in agreement and finishes the next few eggs. He dices them quickly and sets them aside before he dumps the potatoes into the boiling water. He puts a timer on his phone for seven minutes and leans against the island with a sigh.   
  
“Did you ever meet with that baker?”   
  
“Sure did,” Queenie says. “I keep thinkin’ I’ve seen you recently. It’s hard to believe you’ve been out of work for so long. We’re official now, honey. When you get back to the precinct, you’ll have to meet him.”   
  
“I think Tina did mention double the baked goods recently,” Graves says and sighs. “Rochester just doesn’t have anything on Manhattan.”   
  
Queenie smiles. “You’ll be home before you know it, Captain,” she says. “We all miss you too.”   
  
“Thank you, Miss Goldstein,” he says, a little dryly, because he’s not sure if she means it and if she does, ooey gooey feelings make him uncomfortable. “Have you started planning the Halloween party yet?”   
  
“You know it,” Queenie says with a grin. “Just ideas so far, but everything will start coming together by the end of August.”   
  
“Good,” Graves says, because the Halloween party always keeps morale up for the rest of the year. Or, at least, until the holidays. “When the potatoes are done, I hit them with vinegar, let them sit for a while, and toss everything together after?”   
  
Queenie nods. “Mhmm,” she hums. “Salt and pepper to taste. I always put a tablespoon or two of pickle juice in, gets it right where it needs to be. Top it with some smoked paprika, but not too much. Should be perfect by tomorrow afternoon.”   
  
“Alright, I’ve got it, then,” he says as he checks his watch. “Get back to work.”   
  
“Yes, sir,” Queenie says with a smile. “Be nice to everyone tomorrow.”   
  
“I make no promises,” Graves says with a tired smile. She flutters her hand at him and once they’ve said good night, he ends the call.   
  
Graves finishes the potato salad without many issues after that. The pickle juice does do something for it and he puts it in the casserole dish before topping it with some smoked paprika. And, with a sense of victory, he covers it and puts it in the fridge.   
  
When he sees the mess of the kitchen, he decides he hates suburbia a little more.   
  
“You finished?” Tina’s voice asks as she comes down the stairs in her pajamas.   
  
“I did,” Graves says. “Good evening. Your sister walked me through it.”   
  
“Thought I heard her voice,” Tina says through a yawn. “Go to bed, Captain. I’ll clean up.”   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
“Yes,” Tina says with a smile. “Good night.”   
  
And Graves happily leaves her to it and hobbles upstairs so he can take his nightly dose of narcotic and alcohol and a quick shower before they kick in. When he hits the sheets later, he briefly thinks of Credence, just twenty or so feet away from him, before he decides that’s a dangerous thing to be thinking.   
  
So he thinks of the cameras recording the activity of the house across the street, footage he will have to go over tomorrow, before a dreamless sleep catches up with him and he thinks no more.   
  
——   
  
Graves spends the morning in what is the office of the home, but has been made into their surveillance hub. There are numerous screens on a large desk with views of the house across the street, cameras placed strategically around the neighborhood for a three-sixty view. He goes over some footage from the last few days and jots down any interesting activity.   
  
They tend to use the weekend to go into New York City, but this weekend they’re staying home. Local Rochester PD follows them, normally, when they leave, and lets Graves' department take over once they get in the city.   
  
The sheer amount of drug deals that are happening every weekend is a bit mind boggling and Graves suspects that they will not like who they find throughout the hierarchy of it all. These sort of operations always weed out people he knows personally, no matter how hard they try to shield themselves.   
  
Tina comes in to tell him at eleven that the block party is in an hour and he sighs and finishes up his work.   
  
She won’t let him get away with pajama pants and a tank top, so he gets dressed and makes sure his hair is immaculate before heading downstairs. Tina’s got the potato salad and he fills a small cooler with ice, beer and Tina’s choice of hard lemonades.   
  
It’s such a novel thing to him, block parties, and he doesn’t think he’ll get over it anytime soon. But it’s nice and balmy outside when they emerge from their proverbial lair and neighbors are steadily gathering around the Rose home. Quite a few more than he thought there would be. The street is even blocked off, on both ends, and there are various tables and chairs and the canopies that Credence mentioned, misters keeping the shade under them cool. There’s even a large grill being prepared for cooking hot dogs, burgers, and sausages.   
  
“Be nice,” Tina mutters out of the corner of her mouth.   
  
Graves sighs. “I’m always nice,” he says and smiles as she shoots him a look. “I’ve been trying to maintain my hard exterior and here you go trying to ruin it for me.”   
  
“These things are great for gossip and rumors, you know.”   
  
“If we glean _any_ information about the perps that we don’t already know, I will swallow my tongue.”   
  
“Hello,” Tina greets the Roses cheerfully. “We’ve brought potato salad!”   
  
“Oh, good!” Missus Rose, Gloria, says as she smiles. “We’re so happy you two could join us today! We’ve all been so interested in welcoming you into the neighborhood.”   
  
Graves grimaces more than he smiles. “Thanks for inviting us,” he says and puts the cooler where Mister Rose, Tony, directs him to. “We are almost done unpacking.”   
  
“It always takes so long, doesn’t it?” Gloria asks with a sympathetic smile. “We’ve sworn to never move again.”   
  
Graves thinks the small talk might actually kill him, but Tina mentions the potato salad and how he made it, which seems to instantly gain him popularity among the neighbors there, who flock to the casserole dish to inspect it, declaring that it looks delicious.   
  
They introduce themselves and Graves remembers them by their crimes, parking tickets or shoplifting or disorderly conduct (due to alcohol, mostly), more than he remembers their names.   
  
Jabba is running around, so small that it takes her jumping on his leg and staring up at him before he notices her. He pats her head until she runs off and he eventually finds a chair to sit down in, while Tina informs everyone of his work injury to sympathetic crooning and grimaces.   
  
“You’re really not used to these, are you?”   
  
Graves jumps a little as he looks up, setting his phone down on the table, and sees Credence. He sits across from Graves, wearing a hoodie now, bless his heart, but he’s smiling, as if amused by something Graves has done.   
  
“Our last home was surrounded by neighbors who glared suspiciously at each other, not congregated in the street with potato salad and talked about the general goings-on of the city’s watering habits.”   
  
Credence laughs a little and shakes his head. “Everyone’s nice,” he says as he looks at Graves, then down at the table. “It takes some getting used to, being surrounded by kind people.”   
  
“It does,” Graves agrees as he watches him. “You say it like you have experience with it.”   
  
“A bit,” Credence says with a shrug, but he doesn’t offer up anything more than that. “I brought this,” he says as he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a rolled up magazine. “I thought you might be interested.”   
  
Graves takes it, the glaring white text at the top reading _Rochester,_ the city’s local magazine. He looks over the cover, a beautiful picture of the Woolworth building, so familiar to him. It’s that time of the day the sun hits it just right, lighting up the classic architecture and the revolving doors, a well-timed picture, in between two groups of New Yorkers going about their days. He smiles.   
  
“One of yours?” he asks as he flips open the magazine to the page indicated on the cover where he can find more photos. After Credence has nodded, Graves smiles and looks at the first picture, spread across two pages. It’s New York City as he knows it, the skyline, and Credence’s talent seems to be capturing the unique architecture most people don’t notice anymore, in a subtle way that still draws the eye. “These are phenomenal,” Graves says as he flips to the next picture.   
  
“Thank you,” Credence says, his ears red, a sight Graves thinks might kill him before the small talk does. “I took those a couple years ago, when my class went into the city for a project.”   
  
“Surprised you don’t have a camera on you at all times.”   
  
Credence huffs a dry laugh. “I learned not to,” he says quietly as he glances around. “Once people start realizing I take nice pictures, they try to get me to photograph their niece’s wedding for free because _we’re neighbors after all.”_   
  
Graves grimaces. “Sounds about right,” he mutters as he looks over a picture of the 72nd Street entrance into Central Park. It’s home and he misses it more keenly than usual, seeing it like this. “What are you most interested in? Architecture, obviously, the Olympics…”   
  
“Capturing life’s small moments,” Credence says, almost as if it embarrasses him. “My favorite pictures are the ones of people just living. Something they’ll forget, but that makes them happy in the moment.”   
  
Graves looks over Credence’s face and his heart aches, the way it usually doesn’t. He has an idea why those small, happy moments might mean something to him. He feels slightly guilty for knowing that, but it’s his job, after all.   
  
“New York is an excellent place to find those moments.”   
  
“I want to move to Manhattan someday. Officially,” Credence says with a faint smile. “If I can ever figure out a way to afford it. I might get invited to photograph large events but the pay isn’t high.”   
  
“Well, Manhattan has a large enough arts scene,” Graves says. “If you can find your way into a studio or gallery exhibit.”   
  
“I should be able to, after Beijing,” Credence says. “And I’ll have photos I take during my thesis to add to it.”   
  
Graves looks over a picture of the Cathedral of St John the Divine. It’s focused on someone sitting on steps leading into the cathedral, dressed in all black, her face hidden by her hair, rather than on the cathedral itself. There’s something sad about it and Graves thinks about pictures evoking sadness, not something he’s always attuned to.   
  
“Have you figured out your focus for your thesis?”   
  
“Human emotion through what brings us together the most,” Credence says and smiles as Graves looks at him. “Food.”   
  
Graves laughs. “That’s a good one,” he says. “These really are excellent.”   
  
“Thanks. Keep it, if you want,” Credence says. “They sent me an entire box when they first printed them.”   
  
“I will do just that,” Graves says and smiles as Credence does, though his is a bit bashful and Graves despairs over being married, even if it’s only posed.   
  
But they’re interrupted after that as Tony and various other gentlemen from the neighborhood come to the table and rope Graves into man-talk. He watches Credence leave shortly after that, clearly as uncomfortable with it as Graves is and wishes he could follow. But he talks about sports and yard work and grilling hamburgers and occasionally politics, watching thinly veiled insults get hurled around the table, the only joy he experiences for the next twenty minutes.   
  
Graves is glad when Tina joins him after food has been served, as she’s more open and warm than he is, and he finds it easier to talk to these people when everyone has finally sat down for lunch. They field questions about their respective careers, Graves’ injury, and where they were before this, what their relationship history is, with ease.   
  
Thankfully no one asks about children - not yet anyway - and after a few hours have gone by, and a few beers have been drunk, Graves is reasonably sure that he’s done well.   
  
Gloria and Tony talk about Credence quite a lot and it’s interesting to hear about him, from his parents’ perspective. Credence himself is at another table with older teenagers and a few young adults, who he seems comfortable with, smiling and laughing, more open than Graves has seen him yet.   
  
There’s something about Credence Rose he can’t shake and he thinks that will cause him problems soon.   
  
So he doesn’t look anymore and when it begins to edge toward four, his leg is screaming and he has an entirely valid excuse to say goodbye. Tina stays, of course she does, and he thanks everyone for their welcome into the neighborhood before he drags himself back to the house to take some medicine and maybe have a nap on the couch.   
  
Graves flips through the magazine for a while, enjoying it, until he does falls asleep. When he wakes again, a bit disoriented, it’s still daylight out, but much later in the evening. Tina is sitting on the loveseat and looks at him from over her book.   
  
“You did pretty good,” she says with a wry smile. “I was told I was a lucky woman no less than six times.”   
  
“I _am_ very attractive,” Graves says, hoarse from sleep. “But?”   
  
_“But,”_ Tina says firmly, “be careful who you keep looking at.”   
  
Graves’ stomach does an annoying little flip at that. “And who was I looking at?”   
  
“Credence,” Tina says matter-of-factly as she looks back at her book. “No one else saw. But I’m used to looking where you do, sir, and if you don’t keep that to yourself, someone else will notice.”   
  
Graves is prepared to defend himself, lie through his teeth, but he’s too tired for it, groggy from the narcotic and not in a particularly argumentative mood anyway. He merely yawns and stretches.   
  
“He’s interesting,” he says and smiles wanly as she shoots him a dirty look, “but I do plan on keeping it to myself. Now Mister Cobbe, on the other hand…”   
  
“Codde,” Tina corrects. “He’s recently divorced.”   
  
“On the rebound.”   
  
“Ugh,” Tina says. “Don’t try and sleep with any of the neighbors, please. You’d be demoted to beat cop before you know it.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Tina,” Graves says as he gets up and hobbles into the kitchen. He’s going to have to ice his leg later, after his exercises. “Rochester does not put me in the mood.”   
  
“Thank God for that.”   
  
——   
  
Everything goes relatively smoothly for the next two weeks. They’re invited over to a few neighbors’ homes and after Graves has firmly put his foot down on absolutely not doing that, they absolutely do it. It’s worse, somehow, he thinks, just two couples sitting across the table from each other and chatting.

Not an experience he wants to repeat but he has a feeling he will be forced to anyway.  
  
But other than that, surveillance continues and there are no huge developments. They’ve gotten used to the routine, the way drugs and money are transferred, even if the Bonanno goons change it up now and then, they still fall onto the old tricks that work.   
  
It’s incredibly boring.   
  
Everyone in the neighborhood suspects them of illegal activity, Tina had told him, after the block party, but they’re polite whenever they speak to each other, even if they decline participating in any neighborhood activities.   
  
For once, Graves strongly relates to criminals.   
  
He successfully avoids Credence, though, and thinks that must be a good thing.   
  
His leg is still giving him trouble, but he does the exercises twice a day, as he’s supposed to, and roams the neighborhood or the small woods behind the house with Tina occasionally, to make sure he’s getting in some movement. The more he moves, his physical therapist had said, the faster he’ll be back in the precinct.   
  
Graves will still probably be chained to his desk for a while but he’ll be home, with his unit, with the people he’s worked with for years now. Back to hitting the bar every Friday night with Fontaine or eating Chinese food with Tina and Queenie in the breakroom every Tuesday, reminiscing about old cases or despairing over new ones.   
  
Being back in his apartment, his small but nice apartment, overlooking the city, with no hundreds upon hundreds of square feet of grass to mow, with not a single neighbor who wants anything to do with him. Proper bagel and coffee shops and the best curry he’s ever found.   
  
Graves might be moping.   
  
The sun is rapidly setting and Tina is asleep, so when he gets a call from Seraphina Picquery, he walks out into the backyard, with no damn fences at all, and whose idea was that, but he sits in the folding lawn chair he had grabbed when he was last in Walmart.   
  
He hates Walmart.   
  
“Hello, Madam President,” he answers.   
  
“That stopped being funny after the first time,” Seraphina says. “Three years ago.”   
  
Graves smirks to himself as he leans back and looks up at the darkening sky. “What do you want?”   
  
“What do you think I want?”   
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Graves sighs. “My soul.” When she sighs, he huffs a laugh. “Everything is fine here, Sera. It’s boring, but it’s fine. I send you a daily and weekly email about how fine it’s going. What more do you want from me?”   
  
“Hmm,” she hums, the way she always does, when she’s trying to suss out any lies. “How are _you_ doing?”   
  
Graves sighs. _“Fine,”_ he says tiredly. “Small improvements here and there as far as the leg goes. Getting there.”   
  
“Good,” Sera says and sounds like she believes him, for once. “Goldstein seems to think so as well.”   
  
“I’m glad you feel the need to ask my wife how I’m doing,” Graves mutters. “How’s it going on your end?”   
  
“Well,” Sera says. “We’re building a good amount of evidence here in the city and you’re doing good work in Rochester. I suspect some of the bigger fish will be harder to fry, of course, they always are, but I’m more than ready to prosecute when the time comes.”   
  
Graves sighs as he watches the sky shift from purple to a deeper blue. “Good,” he says. “I’m still relishing in the fact that I won’t have to be up on the stand for once.”   
  
“Yes, lucky you,” Sera says with some amusement. “You’ll still have additional units with you for a while, once you come back to Manhattan. No interviews for a year, I’ve decided.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Graves mumbles. “Anything else, ma’am?”   
  
“No, Captain,” Sera says. “Take care of yourself, Percy. Lay off the whiskey.”   
  
Graves frowns. “My wife is a dirty gossip,” he says. “I’ll do no such thing. Good night.” He hangs up on her before she can begin to scold him and doesn’t feel all that bad about it.   
  
He’s known Sera since she moved into his neighborhood when they were in junior high, fresh from Savannah, Georgia, no friends and more hot-headed than even he was at that age. She continually accuses him of having never grown out of it these days, but she’s never had to sit across from herself in a witness box and they’re on the same damn side.   
  
Graves hears the back door to the Roses’ home open and thinks about going back inside, but it’s dark enough and he hadn’t turned on his back light.   
  
Of course that does nothing for a dog and he hears Jabba running through the grass before she’s appeared in front of him, hopping on to his lap without so much as a by-your-leave. The Roses’ backyard lights up and Graves sees Credence as he looks around for the dog.   
  
“She’s over here,” Graves calls and smirks as Credence jumps a little, turning toward him. “Do you ever keep this dog on a leash?”   
  
Credence walks over and sighs when he gets close enough, shaking his head at Jabba. “Only for longer walks,” he says and smiles, though it’s hard to see. “Why are you sitting out here in the dark?”   
  
“Well, it wasn’t dark when I first got out here,” Graves says, chuckling. “Reach in and hit the switch, if you’d like.”   
  
Credence does so and Graves winces at the light. He shouldn’t be surprised to see Credence dressed warmly in another hoodie, even while he’s sweating in his tank top, which he’s had to buy extra of lately.   
  
“You’re going to get heatstroke one of these days,” Graves says as he scratches Jabba’s chin, who is panting happily, looking at Credence.   
  
Credence shrugs and sits down in the grass near Graves. “Sweating keeps you cooler when you wear one of these. And I’m used to it.”   
  
_“I’m_ going to get heatstroke then,” Graves says. Jabba hops off his lap and licks Credence’s fingers before she begins to explore the yard that isn’t all that different from her own. “When do you start back?”   
  
“Not for another month,” Credence says as he looks at Graves with a smile. “Why?”   
  
“Just despairing that it’s only been two weeks,” Graves says with a sigh.   
  
Credence laughs. “You act like you’ve never been in this type of humidity before.”   
  
“My whole life,” Graves says. “But I’m also a workaholic if you ask my wife and spend early morning until late night in an extremely cold office or air conditioned vehicle. I’m not used to being outside like this.”   
  
“Sounds unhealthy,” Credence says with a shrug. “Maybe you should get some more sun while you have the opportunity to.”   
  
“Coming from someone with precisely zero color to his skin.”   
  
Credence shakes his head with a smile. “I burn too easily. You look like you’d tan.”   
  
Graves doesn’t like the idea of Credence looking. Not really, anyway, because it’s bound to get him into trouble if he thinks about it for too long. He supposes it’s the fact that he _does_ like the idea that Credence is looking that’s more worrisome.   
  
“You have a tattoo,” Credence says, because he’s looking.   
  
Graves looks down at his left shoulder, where a few lines of thin ink are visible. “I do,” he says and looks at Credence, who merely raises his eyebrows. He laughs and pulls down his tank top, just a little, so Credence can see the sketchy lines of a lioness roaring, but not far enough down to be obscene. “Not bad for ten years old.”   
  
“It’s a nice style,” Credence says with a smile, gaze lingering on Graves’ chest for a moment before he meets his eyes again. “Why a lioness?”   
  
“I find them to be far more fierce than the maned type,” Graves says. “It seems to work that way across species.”   
  
Credence looks like he agrees. “Missus Reid seems like she can handle her own, if you don’t mind my saying.”   
  
“Oh, she can,” Graves says. “I did not realize just how well until we started living together.” He smiles wryly. “Her and her sister. Peaches, until you get to know them.”   
  
“Everyone out there thinks you’re a peach too,” Credence says with amusement.   
  
“Everyone out _there,_ huh?”   
  
Credence shrugs. “When you put on an act for long enough, you start to see other people doing it too.”   
  
Graves observes Credence for a while. He knows it’s true, learned that when he was a child himself, and only had it reinforced when he joined the police department. Most people are genuine, even when speaking to police, but those that are hiding something inside, they’re easy to spot, if you know what you’re looking for.   
  
Most people don’t know what to look for, which leads to all sorts of unpleasant outcomes, some that eventually involve him.   
  
But Graves knows. Can see a monster behind a friendly smile, can see a battered spouse behind a loving touch, can see an abused child behind their polite cooperation.   
  
Graves is no child and he isn’t hiding something worse, but he’s hiding who he is at the heart of him, all the same.   
  
“Fair enough,” he says and smiles wryly. “I’m a bit like you, Credence. I can see through their bullshit too. It makes socializing less fun, when everyone’s putting on airs.”   
  
“You do learn how to work with it eventually,” Credence says quietly as he watches Jabba come back to them, sniffing around Graves’ chair. “Most of us here, on this street, we aren’t hiding skeletons.” He frowns. “Except the one directly across from you, but everyone knows that.”   
  
“Actual skeletons?” Graves asks, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“There might be,” Credence says with a laugh. “Jabba went into their yard once, near their garage when it was open, and I thought they were going to kill her, the way they reacted. She’s just a Pomeranian.”   
  
“Who knows,” Graves says. “Maybe they thought she was a drug-sniffing canine or a cadaver dog.”   
  
Credence smiles. “Maybe they’re used to that.”   
  
Graves shrugs. “They just might be,” he says and smiles in return. “Let me know if you ever see them stuffing a body in the trunk.”   
  
“Will do,” Credence says with some cheekiness. “Come on, Jabba.” He stands and Graves does the same, with a little more effort. “Is it getting better?”   
  
“Mhmm,” Graves hums as he tries not to wince too noticeably. “Stiffer still, in the evenings.”   
  
“What happened, exactly?”   
  
“I was impaled while working,” Graves says and laughs as Credence gapes at him with something like horror, patting his shoulder. “Not even an air-conditioned office is safe, Credence, remember that.”   
  
Credence shakes his head. “Dad said you’re a lawyer.”   
  
“The greatest bit of irony, when you think about our reputation as blood-sucking vampires.”   
  
Credence laughs, the sound more musical and joyful than Graves has heard so far and he curses himself, just a little, for the way his stomach flutters.   
  
“Well… if you ever want company, Mister Reid, while you’re off from work,” Credence says with a shrug. “Let me know. I’m not doing anything either.”   
  
That’s dangerous, Graves knows. But he also knows Tina is driving down to Manhattan next week and not wandering the house drinking all day might be a good idea. Or it might be the best idea, compared to the alternative.   
  
“I will,” Graves says and thinks it’s rightly ambiguous. “Percy, please.”   
  
“Percy,” Credence repeats and smiles a little, looking down at Jabba, who is sitting on his foot. “Good night then, Percy.”   
  
“Good night, Credence,” Graves says and sighs as he watches him go. He walks inside and turns the back light off before grabbing a beer out of the fridge and going into the living room.   
  
He’ll watch TV until Tina comes down and he can go to bed and try with all his might to not think about Credence Rose.   
  
Graves will fail, but that’s nothing new.   
  
——   
  
He gets through the next week without too much trouble. He’s accosted at the mailbox by the older group of women that speed walk through the neighborhood one day, but he merely avoids leaving the house at seven in the morning after that.   
  
On Friday morning, he walks with Tina to her issued Range Rover parked in the driveway and puts her small suitcase in the back for her.   
  
“You’ll be okay?”   
  
“I’ve told you ten times I will be,” Graves says. “I’ve managed to take care of myself for this long, I think I’ll be alright for three days.”   
  
Tina raises her eyebrows. “You normally have enough going on to keep you busy.”   
  
“My mornings are going to be spent reviewing footage from the night before. My afternoons are going to be spent watching a lot of movies and drinking a lot of whiskey.”   
  
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Tina mutters as she opens the driver door and frowns at him. “Call me if you need me, okay? Or Queenie or the Lieutenant... any of us.”   
  
“I’m going to be fine,” Graves sighs. “Really,” he adds when she only continues to frown. “Enjoy your time off. Drive safe, let me know when you get in.”   
  
“Will do,” Tina says and climbs into the Rover.   
  
Graves backs away as she closes the door and smirks when she salutes him before she’s out of the driveway and down the street. He heads back inside and makes himself a pot of coffee with a dash of whiskey and stuffs some toast into his mouth. Then he’s off into the office to review footage and get an email started for Seraphina.   
  
The day goes by at a snail’s pace and he curses Tina a little, for being right. She’s normally upstairs asleep and even though he spends his days mostly alone, the idea of someone else nearby had been enough.   
  
Now he’s in this big house, staged beyond anything they had wanted to bring of their own, and he hates it a little. Hates the huge kitchen island and quartz countertops and the tile floors that stretch from front to back. Hates the multitude of doors for various storage and other rooms. Hates the goddamn yard, front and back.   
  
His apartment is dark hardwood floors and wooden beams on the ceiling, handsome wainscotting in the office, his kitchen small but rich, the right size for him.   
  
This house is so large it’s beginning to suffocate him.   
  
It’s too damn hot to go outside and he thinks, if he ever had to do this again, he’d demand a backyard with a pool. Sure, there’s the community pool, but he knows what goes on in community pools, knows what they’re filled with, and won’t be stepping foot into it anytime soon.   
  
They’d gone shopping last night to let Graves load up for the long weekend, so he wouldn’t have to leave, but he regrets it now, since it could give him something to do.   
  
And when he looks in the refrigerator, there is nothing he wants to eat. Chicken and rice and vegetables wouldn’t take long, would be good, but he doesn’t want good.   
  
He’s moody and when he’s moody, he’s destructive.   
  
Graves locks the house up and goes outside. It’s after six, but the sun is still high in the sky, and he gets into the truck with some trouble and a lot of cursing and begins to browse through his phone.   
  
It should come as no surprise to him when he glances up and sees that Credence is in his own yard, sitting under that oak tree, reading another book. Graves debates for a while on if he should engage him - everything in him screaming not to - before he decides that he can be a little more destructive, if he wants. Just a little.   
  
Graves lowers the window and rests his arm on the door as he leans over. “Mister Rose,” he calls and smiles as Credence lowers his book to peer at him, likely having seen him not so gracefully climb into the truck. “I have a question for you.”   
  
Credence smiles as he rests his book on his stomach. “What’s that, Mister Reid?”   
  
“What does… beautiful Rochester have on offer for a good dog?”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Dogtown, of course.”   
  
“Of course, he says,” Graves says with a laugh. “It’s not far?”   
  
“Not really. Ten minutes,” Credence says. “Up the 450 and just off the 31.”   
  
Graves turns to the display screen on his console and enters Dogtown into the maps app and nods as he looks at the directions. “Thank you, Mister Rose,” he says and winks as Credence smiles. He pulls out of the driveway and when he’s in front of the Rose home, he lowers the passenger window and asks, “Going my way?”   
  
Credence looks surprised before he laughs, something sweet about it, something sweet about Credence altogether. The way his eyes squint half-closed and his smile widens, genuine joy in it, and Graves knows, if he doesn’t stop it today, he’ll be fucked in no time.   
  
Credence gets to his feet and puts his book in his hoodie pocket as he walks to the truck. He opens the door and gets inside, taking a quick look around, his eyebrows raised in surprise.   
  
Graves smiles a bit wryly. No expense spared, he knows, considering it’s fully prepared to go into a high speed chase and not get more than a scratch on it. The inside fits too and Graves thinks he’ll commandeer it for himself when he gets back to Manhattan.   
  
“Will this compare to a New York City dog?”   
  
“You might be surprised,” Credence says as he pulls on his seatbelt. “Where’s Missus Reid?”   
  
“Tina,” Graves says and smiles as he pulls away from the curb and heads out of the neighborhood. “She had to tie up a few loose ends with her previous job, left this morning. She’ll be spending the weekend with her sister while she’s down there.”   
  
“You didn’t want to go?”   
  
“And deprive her of the opportunity to escape being with me at all times?” Graves says with a grim smile. “She’s not used to me being at home all hours of the day. She’s used to peace and quiet.”   
  
She’s not, really, with that fiancé of hers and his menagerie of animals, but Graves won’t say that.   
  
“Do you disturb the peace often?”   
  
“Not often,” Graves says. “Only occasionally. She said my leg is causing everyone pain.” He smirks as Credence chuckles a little at that. “She deserves the break.”   
  
Credence smiles as he looks at Graves, then out of the window. “Are you doing anything to keep you busy this weekend then?”   
  
“I plan on starting my days at noon and eating and drinking them away. Maybe watching some movies I’m a year or two behind on.”   
  
“Like what?”   
  
“I never did see that Mad Max movie.”   
  
“That’s been out for five years now.”   
  
“Fuck,” Graves says. “Has it? Well, it’s on the list.”   
  
“It’s really good.”   
  
Graves smiles as he glances at Credence, then back at the road. He follows the directions that the app gives him and it really is just ten minutes before they’re there. He parks on the street and looks at the tiny building, more of a shack, and glances at Credence, who merely shrugs at him.   
  
He laughs and gets out of the truck and walks around it. They walk into the small patio area and inside the shop and the familiar smells of hot dogs, chili, and sauteed onions hits him. It’s not much inside or out but most places that serve the best food aren’t. The menu makes him laugh, everything named after dogs - the canine variety - and gets an Irish Setter, corned beef and sauerkraut and swiss. Credence gets a polish sausage sandwich and once they have their food and a couple drinks, Credence convinces him to sit outside on the patio, under an umbrella covered table.   
  
“Alright,” Graves says after his first bite, when Credence looks at him. “It’s pretty fucking good.”   
  
Credence smiles cheekily. “I lived here in high school,” he says. “Nothing better than a chili cheese dog and a joint shared between friends.”   
  
Graves laughs. “To be young again,” he says with a smirk, shaking his head. “You still do that?”   
  
“Smoke or come here with friends?”   
  
“Come here with friends.”   
  
“Sometimes,” Credence says. “A few live in the city now, full time. But some come back for summer break, like me. And some never went anywhere.” He smiles a little. “It’s different now though, with all of them.”   
  
“That’s what a few years in college will do for you,” Graves says with a smile. “If you don’t come out of it hating half of your high school friends, you didn’t do it right.”   
  
“I don’t hate them,” Credence says as he laughs. “They just make me a little sad, is all.”   
  
Graves nods and takes another bite of the hot dog. He knows what Credence means, but he also dropped most of his friends like a bad habit after getting into criminal justice in college so he could join the NYPD at a higher rank and with more pay.   
  
He asks more about the neighborhood and city as they eat and Credence tells him about various places that he likes to go, while admitting he’s not particularly fond of Rochester himself. There’s plenty of crime in the city, but there are still things to do, sights to see, including beautiful parks and tree and flower nurseries.   
  
He says he likes being surrounded by nature, but there’s something that feels like home to him in Manhattan, because he was born there.   
  
“Before your parents moved up here?” Graves asks, knowing it’s not true, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with testing the waters.   
  
Credence is quiet for a while, biting his lip, before he shakes his head. “No, they’ve always been up here. I was adopted when I was twelve,” he says and smiles. “I was in Manhattan until then, mostly.”   
  
“Had to have been an entirely different world when you got here.”   
  
“Very,” Credence says with a sigh. “It took a while to adjust to it. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to go back to the city, but when I was finishing up high school, it felt right. My parents didn’t like it, not at first. They’ve come around.” He smiles. “They come down once a month when I’m in the residence halls and I show them around.”   
  
“They seem like good people.”   
  
“They are,” Credence says. “Even when I wasn’t a particularly well-adjusted child.”   
  
Graves shrugs. “That’s when being good people, good parents, matters the most,” he says. “I don’t really think any of us are well-adjusted anyway. It only matters what we do with ourselves.”   
  
“You don’t think you’re well-adjusted?” Credence asks with a small, amused smile.   
  
“No,” Graves says, smiling wryly. “Never have been. But I manage to keep myself out of trouble most days.”   
  
“What was life like when you were twelve, Percy?” Credence asks as he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the table.   
  
Graves takes a drink of his iced tea as he thinks about that. “When I was twelve, I spent most of my days running the neighborhood with a few friends so I didn’t have to be at home. I was much better behaved at school,” he says with a smirk. “Wouldn’t have wanted the old man to get a call saying otherwise.”   
  
Credence frowns and Graves shrugs. “A tale as old as time,” he says. “I got an apartment with an old friend in Lower Manhattan the day I turned eighteen and never looked back.”   
  
“What happened to him?” Credence asks.   
  
“Drank himself to death when I was about… twenty-four,” Graves says.   
  
“Is your mother…?”   
  
Graves huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “She ran off when I started high school. Married some bigshot CEO in Midtown and pretended she never had children,” he says and smiles as Credence frowns even further. “All of their choices led me to where I am now. I’m happy where I am now.”   
  
Credence nods and looks down at his empty plate. “I didn’t know either of my biological parents,” he says. “I was adopted when I was five. CPS put me back in foster care when I was eleven and then my parents found me. I’m happy where I am now too.”   
  
“Some of us are dealt bad hands,” Graves says as he watches Credence, his heart aching for him. “At the beginning. Once you learn how to play the table a little, you can work your way out of it. I’m glad you did.”   
  
“With a lot of help,” Credence says with a wan smile as he looks at Graves again.   
  
“You still chose to be better,” Graves says as he smiles. “That’s on you.”   
  
Credence huffs a small laugh. “I suppose,” he says. “Are you still friends with the person you moved in with back then?”   
  
“I am,” Graves says. “Hell of a woman.”   
  
“Tina?”   
  
“No,” Graves laughs. “Though she’s a hell of a woman too.”   
  
Credence smiles and Graves sees something behind it, something he can’t explore, because he knows what it means. Knows how dangerous it is. A longing and not for what he thinks Graves has.

For Graves himself.  
  
So he takes him home, once they’ve thrown everything away, but the drive feels longer somehow. He glances at Credence now and then, who seems to enjoy simply staring out of the window and at the passing landscape, which must be so familiar to him.   
  
He’s beautiful, really, from his eyes to his smile to the cut of his jaw. But he’s too young, way too young, and Graves thinks that he needs to focus on that, because if he only worries about Tina or the investigation, he’ll throw caution to the wind.   
  
Graves is used to getting what he wants, has been for nearly twenty years now, and tells himself that all of the flings he’s had and the occasional romance back in college, were all age-appropriate.   
  
He’d been attracted to older men back then too, sure, but he was too confident, too moody and angry at the world for them to put up with him, and attraction was as far as it had ever gotten.   
  
Now that he’s in the position he is in law enforcement, he doesn’t really have the opportunity to date. He can’t expect it to be sunshine and rainbows within headquarters if he gets into a relationship with a man, even if it looks good outside of it these days, and he doesn’t want to bring anyone into that.   
  
Even having flings nowadays puts him at risk.   
  
It’s a fantasy, Graves decides, when he looks at Credence. He’s playing a part, a part where he could have what he wants, even if it meant upending his own fake household. But it’s not the real world, it’s not what’s waiting for him back in Manhattan, and so he throws up the familiar walls, the walls he’s built over the years, and reinforces them.   
  
Graves parks in his driveway and gets out of the truck as Credence walks around it. He smiles at him, because he doesn’t have it in him to be cruel or shove Credence completely away.   
  
“Thanks, Percy,” Credence says as he smiles back. “Let me know if you want to go again this weekend. Or somewhere else, there are a few staples around here.”   
  
“Sure,” Graves says. “Will do.”   
  
“Let me give you my number,” Credence says, like it’s so very easy. “So you can text me.”   
  
Graves is fairly sure the alarm bells ringing in his head might deafen him. “Sure,” he says again and pulls out his phone. He plans to enter it incorrectly, plans to pretend he’s got it, so he’s not tempted to text Credence. To not give either of them an opportunity to fuck up. “Thanks.”   
  
He doesn’t enter it incorrectly, but promises himself the thought counts. He can always change it later. But he does put _DANGER_ instead of Credence’s name.   
  
“Are you okay, Percy?”   
  
“Hmm? I’m fine,” Graves says and smiles as Credence peers at him with concern. “Really,” he laughs. “I think I’m in for some heartburn later, but I’m fine. You have a good night, alright?”   
  
Credence watches him for a while before he nods, smiling faintly. “You too,” he says. “Good night.”   
  
Graves watches him go and sighs as he walks inside. He gets himself a sizable glass of whiskey and collapses on the sofa, turning the TV on and trying not to think about life and how unfair it all is.   
  
——   
  
At three in the morning on Saturday, Graves is woken by his phone buzzing, an alarm for one of the cameras. It’s pointed at the house across the street, aimed at the garage and front door, just beyond the street, and alerts him if there is movement.   
  
He’s a little pissed that he has to get out of bed but he goes into the office and turns the screens on so he can get a closer look at what’s going on. They’re moving duffel bags, filled with money or drugs or weapons, who knows, and he gets on the line with Rochester PD so they can figure out where it’s going.   
  
Once the perps have left and he stays for half an hour to make sure that Rochester is following, he drags himself back to bed. It’s a five and a half hour drive to New York City, so he won’t be getting many updates if that’s where they’re heading.   
  
And he doesn’t, not until past nine, from his own department. Graves doesn’t let Tina know, doesn’t want to bother her while she’s taking some time for herself, so he writes an email to Seraphina and sends a copy of the footage.   
  
After his exercises and breakfast, Graves spends the rest of the day in front of the TV trying not to lose his damn mind. He suspects he’ll crack by the time early September rolls around, but at least Credence won’t be in town anymore.   
  
Once they’re both lost to the big city, it’ll be easier to forget him. For now, he’s the elephant in the room, and every time Graves touches his phone, he thinks of him.

But Graves _wants_ him, damn it all, and maybe, if he thinks about it enough, he can figure out a way. Contrary to everything he’s been trying to convince himself of, he knows, but he pushes that to the back of his mind.   
  
Normally Graves would talk to Sera or even Fontaine about what the hell he should do in this sort of situation, but he can’t. He can’t ask Tina. And he has no other friends and idly thinks about finding some that are not law enforcement or district attorneys.   
  
There is one, he realizes after a while, one person he could trust, one person who would not tell anyone else what’s plaguing him.   
  
At least, he hopes not.   
  
Queenie’s loyalty likely lies with her sister, rather than him, but he texts her anyway.   
  
_How did your sister talk you out of marrying the old man?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Hello to you too. She told me once I hit my thirties he’d be divorcing me for another twenty year old and I realized she was right. But that probably doesn’t help much, huh?_ _  
_ _  
_ _It really doesn’t._ _  
_ _  
_ _Are you interested in wedding or bedding him?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Was there no other way to put that? I’m not interested in unprofessional relations with him until he goes back to NYU and having it end there._ _  
_ _  
_ _Ooo, sounds serious, bossman. Why don’t you just wait until you’re back home?_   
  
Graves frowns down at his phone for a while. He looks up at the television, Netflix’s home screen staring back at him, then looks back down at the phone.   
  
Why doesn’t he just wait? The same reasons he’s always had, he supposes.   
  
_There’s the whole having to explain to him who I actually am and what my life is actually like thing._ _  
_ _  
_ _He’s bound to see your picture or your face on TV one of these days anyway. Might not be for a while but it would eventually happen._ _  
_ _  
_ _That could be years from now, if he even stays in the city._ _  
_ _  
_ _Yeah. Or you can tell him yourself a lot sooner and tell him what you’re interested in._ _  
_ _  
_ _He’s young. Too young._ _  
_ _  
_ _But there’s something about him or you wouldn’t be texting me right now, honey. You’ll be back home in less than a month and a half, that’s not too long. Get his number and call him up once you’re back._   
  
Graves runs his hand over his face and presses his knuckles against his mouth as he thinks about it. She’s right, of course. Credence is leaving in less than a month, and he’ll be back in Manhattan shortly after that himself. If Credence still looks at him the same way, he can explore that then.   
  
Though Graves wouldn’t be surprised if his position scared him away. He’s rather reluctant to even get close enough for more than something casual himself, for all the reasons he thought about just last night.   
  
_My reputation would be heavily affected if I got into a relationship with another man, let alone a younger man._ _  
_ _  
_ _I suppose you have to decide if he’s worth fighting for then, honey. Cause it’s gonna be a fight, you’re right._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thanks, Queenie. You’re helping me come to terms with what a bad fucking idea this is._ _  
_ _  
_ _Aww, Percy, maybe it won’t be so bad. Who knows, you could always quit and get back into law, the way you wanted to when you were eighteen. ;)_   
  
Graves huffs a little laugh and thanks Queenie more genuinely before he tosses his phone aside and runs his hands through his hair. He chooses another movie after a while and watches it, not really seeing it.   
  
There’s something about Credence Rose he just can’t shake, a thought that’s still haunting him. It’s the first time in a long while that his interest has been piqued beyond a physical one but he has no damn idea what Credence himself would actually want. Maybe he’s looking for a lay before he goes back to school and nothing more.   
  
Graves knows he’s reading him right, that Credence wants the way he wants, but he could probe a little further before Credence leaves, to figure out if his interest runs deeper.   
  
So Graves does it. Does it knowing he’ll need to be careful, he’ll need to keep his head in check, but he does it anyway, to hell with the danger of it.   
  
_Mad Max?_   
  
It only takes a few minutes for Credence to respond.   
  
_Right now?_ _  
_ _  
_ _It seems like a Saturday night movie._ _  
_ _  
_ _It’s an any time movie. Twenty minutes, I’m at the park with Jabba. Should I bring anything?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Popcorn._   
  
Graves gets the red one-hundred emoji in reply and supposes that means Credence agrees with that idea.   
  
And after the initial desire to grab Credence and kiss him when he walks into the house, they get through it. They get through it as friends, watching a movie together and sharing a bowl of popcorn and quite a few laughs. Credence is relaxed in his presence, more than just about anyone is, and he puts Graves at ease in a way that he usually isn’t too.   
  
They don’t come too close to each other’s orbit, though they are certainly circling around one another. Graves can feel Credence staring at him now and then but he doesn’t stare back, because he won’t push. He’s testing the waters, to see if he can figure out what Credence may want from him.   
  
When he’s walking him out later, the way Credence looks at him isn’t with heat, not really. It’s longing, it’s affection, it’s more than physical desire.   
  
Graves thinks he has his answer.   
  
So he’ll wait. Wait until it’s safe, wait until he won’t fuck anything up or run the risk of ruining his career.   
  
It gets him through the next few weeks. He still sees Credence, often, between sitting out in the backyard with him and talking about anything and everything until Tina wakes up, or the Roses inviting them over for dinner. Tina even enjoys herself, after reminding him that they are supposed to be married and act like it, but he finds it’s somehow easier to put on that act with Credence in the room.   
  
Credence never looks at Tina with jealousy. He’s polite to her, interested in what she has to say, enjoys her dry humor as much as he enjoys Graves’.   
  
Maybe he’s convinced himself that it can’t happen.   
  
Graves wants to tell him to wait, just a little longer.   
  
Credence is going back to NYU before Graves knows it. He tells him, tells him they’re leaving Saturday, that his parents are driving him down to campus and back to the residence halls.   
  
That leaves him with only two weeks left here himself. They’ve gotten enough solid evidence between movements from the house across the street, license plates and other identifying markers on vehicles matching what his department sees and surveills in the city. They have hours of video and thousands of pictures of transportation of money, drugs and weapons, and two of his detectives that are undercover in the operation have plenty of evidence of who is involved and exactly what they’re doing.   
  
It’s going to be a huge break when it happens. When the raids come and the arrests happen and interrogations and plea deals Seraphina will graciously extend for information on the ones they can’t nail otherwise. It’s going to be national news and normally he’d be there, in the thick of it, but he won’t be giving interviews about other cases for a year, and otherwise will have no ties to the operation, for his own safety.   
  
Graves thinks about a year from now. He’s been promised a promotion after this, up to Assistant Chief if he wants it. A huge jump professionally, something he’s always wanted. His greatest aspiration was to be Chief of Police for the NYPD when he decided to pursue a law enforcement career. Getting there before he’s forty-five would be a personal achievement.   
  
But the people that are exposed during the operation, that he learns about every damn day, people he knows, has worked with, has worked _for,_ people he’s admired that are on the take, it turns him sour. It’s always like this, has always been like this, ever since he joined the force, but it rankles him worse each time.   
  
They’re not known for being one of the most corrupt police departments in the country for nothing. It was a schoolboy fantasy, he thinks, wanting to become Chief so he could change it. Change it with the help of Seraphina, who wants the same change, who strives for it every damn day of her life.   
  
He knows now, has known for a long time, that sort of change comes from a higher power than them both and with it the gain of many enemies, in and out of law enforcement.   
  
Graves loves his job. Loves running his department of detectives, loves being a part of solving crimes, loves watching his unit grow professionally and personally, but he’s seen the underbelly of law enforcement and he often wonders if it’s worth it.   
  
He knows once everything is said and done, he’ll have a lot of sleepless nights, the way he has after each crack down, questioning his choices. He wonders if the day will come that he won’t believe he’s doing the right thing anymore. If it already has.   
  
Wryly, he thinks, the day before Credence will be leaving, his leg is at least starting to get better. He can walk for longer periods of time, sit too, and his exercises are getting easier to perform. The scar is ugly, always will be, the hole it put in him and the surgeries he had after, but he doesn’t regret that it happened.   
  
Besides possibly giving him an alcohol habit anyway, but he has laid off washing down the percocets with it.   
  
It’s finally beginning to dip under eighty and it’s been raining for two days by the time Friday afternoon rolls around. Graves is in the garage, tinkering with the lawn mower, which has been giving him a hard time and will need to be working after the rain has stopped.   
  
He’s got his iPad leaning against the wall with youtube open as he sits on Tina’s yoga mat, trying not to fly into a rage with the way the man filming the video keeps saying _ya know?_ every few seconds.   
  
There’s a light knock from behind him and Graves looks around. It’s Credence, of course it is, standing just outside of the garage, his hoodie over his head. Graves gestures him inside and smiles.   
  
“Hey,” he says. “Cats and dogs, isn’t it?”   
  
“It always happens in the last week of August,” Credence says as he pulls his hood down and sits down on the step up from the garage floor. “Did you break it?”   
  
“I did no such thing,” Graves says as he pauses the video. “It keeps shutting down when I’m mowing. Apparently a common problem with this model, according to Mister _Ya know?_ here.” He gestures at the iPad.   
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “We’ve watched you yell at it for the last two weeks, ya know.”   
  
“Oh. Well, that just makes my day.”   
  
“Mom thinks you’re hilarious,” Credence says with a smile. “Dad said you’d cave and fix it or buy a new one soon.”   
  
“I am so glad to have been your family’s weekend enjoyment, Credence, it warms my heart,” Graves says as he looks at Credence and smiles flatly. “Your dad could have at least brought over a beer and commiserated for a while.”   
  
“Pretty much everyone here hires landscapers, Percy.”   
  
Graves smiles shortly. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know. I know because I hear them at six every damn morning and I know because my darling wife refuses to let me hire them myself.”   
  
“She just wants to make sure you’re getting enough movement in,” Credence says with an amused smile.   
  
“That’s what she’d like you to believe,” Graves says. “I think her reasons are more nefarious. It does give her a break from seeing my face for the… eight thousand hours it takes me to do the front and back…” He grunts as he pries out the _contraption,_ as the man in the video had so helpfully called it. “Do you know what this is called?”   
  
“Nope,” Credence says with his eyebrows raised, his eyes glittering with mirth, as they always seem to be around Graves.   
  
“Neither does he,” Graves says as he gestures at the iPad and sets the small metal piece aside. “You ready to get back down to Manhattan?”   
  
“Mostly,” Credence says and bites his lip the way he does when he’s nervous or thinking too hard about something. “I’ll be back for Thanksgiving. I thought about Halloween weekend but it’s too long of a drive for just one night. So I suppose I’ll see you for the holidays.”   
  
Graves glances at Credence, who doesn’t sound all that happy about it, and looks back at the lawn mower, his heart racing with the truth he knows. The truth he can’t say, not yet.   
  
“You will,” he says. “It’ll go by quick with how busy you’re going to be getting your thesis together.”   
  
Credence nods. “I know,” he says. “I guess I’ll just miss it.”   
  
“Being home?”   
  
“Spending time with you.”   
  
Graves’ heart does a funny little heap at that, though he’s more familiar with the way his stomach churns uneasily. He looks at Credence again, who is looking steadily back at him, no trace of amusement in his gaze anymore.   
  
The longing is back, the affection, but the heat is stronger now. Graves feels it himself, warming his skin, and his heart begins to race.   
  
“You’ll see me again,” is what he says, because he will make sure that happens. Because he doesn’t know what else to say. Because he can’t say anything else. He stands and walks over to the tool bench, the adrenaline in his blood demanding movement. “Text me, if you’d like. I’ll keep you up to date on the lawn until winter hits it.”   
  
The garage door closes, not by his hand, and all Graves can think is, _well fuck._   
  
He turns to look at Credence, who is approaching him now, determination set in his shoulders. But he doesn’t touch Graves when he gets close, just looks at him, his eyebrows knitted together.   
  
“Credence,” Graves says quietly, a warning for him or himself, he doesn’t know.   
  
“It’s strange,” Credence says. “But I feel like I’m never going to see you again. That when I come back home, you won’t be here anymore. I know,” he adds when Graves opens his mouth. “But I wanted to… just once, maybe.”   
  
Graves breathes in deeply, tries to steel himself, to argue against it. “It’s not a good idea,” he says, but his protests have no backbone in them.   
  
Credence nods. “I know it’s not. But you see the way I look at you, Percy, and I see the way you look at me,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t ask. I know you’re married. But just once, I want to feel what it’s like to kiss you.”   
  
“Fuck,” Graves sighs as he gazes at Credence. His fingertips are tingling, something he thinks he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. “Credence, I… fucking hell.”   
  
Graves takes Credence’s face in his hands and doesn’t have to pull him closer. Credence comes willingly and Graves kisses him. Doesn’t kiss him easy, doesn’t kiss him gently, doesn’t fumble with it, because he knows this will be the last time he sees Credence in Rochester.   
  
He hopes he will see him in Manhattan, hopes that Credence will accept him for who he is, but if he doesn’t… just once, as Credence had said.   
  
Credence kisses back with just as much force and passion, his arms moving around Graves, grasping at his shirt. He tastes sweet, sweet like the coffee he gets from the place around the corner, heavily sweetened with cream and sugar, and Graves idly thinks that’s exactly what he’s tasting. It’s Credence, the familiarity of him intoxicating, and he thinks whenever he walks into a coffee shop from now on, this is what he’s going to remember.   
  
He’s alright with that.   
  
When they break apart to breathe, Graves turns around and pins Credence to the bench, until Credence lifts himself up and sits on it. His legs wrap around Graves’ waist and he thinks he may be done in by just that, but Credence pulls him in for another kiss and he cannot refuse.   
  
Graves squeezes Credence’s hips and when Credence arches against him, he moves his hands further back and squeezes until Credence moans. He pulls back a little, to breathe, and to kiss along Credence’s jaw, moving to his neck. Credence tips his head back, his breath shallow, one hand in Graves’ hair and the other digging into his back.   
  
“Do you know how often I think about this?” Graves asks, in between kissing and sucking a gentle bruise below the hoodie’s collar. “You’re beautiful, Credence. So beautiful.”   
  
“Shit,” Credence says and Graves hears him swallow. “I think about this every day, Percy.” He laughs breathlessly before it hitches as Graves pulls his hoodie back a little and bites the nape of his neck. “Oh, God. I’ve wanted to… so, so many times, I’ve wanted to ask you to come and fuck me when my parents are gone.”   
  
Graves groans, partly in agony, he thinks, and pulls back to kiss Credence again, briefly. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it too,” he says and pulls Credence a little closer, balanced precariously on the edge of the bench, but pressed fully against him. “I would worship you, you know. I wish I could.”   
  
Credence bites his lip as he looks at Graves, his eyes heavily lidded, cheeks flushed and lips rosy. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep imagining it’s you touching me,” he whispers. “Wrapped around me. Inside me.”   
  
“Fuck,” Graves hisses and thumps his head against Credence’s shoulder as he shakes it. Credence’s hands skitter across his back, dragging his nails against it, and Graves thinks he is dangerously, _dangerously_ close to losing his head.   
  
“If you want to switch… I can give you something to remember me by.”   
  
Graves laughs a little, helplessly so, and looks at Credence again. “It’s not a good idea,” he says quietly, and grasps at the only solid reason he can come up with. “And I don’t have a condom.”   
  
Credence frowns, consideringly. “I don’t either,” he says, like it’s a surprise, which is vaguely concerning. “I’ve never had an occasion to need one like this.”   
  
Slightly less concerning.   
  
“You know all those signs people are always talking about?” Graves asks with a bit of a smirk, pulling away, just slightly, so they’re not breathing each other’s air. Credence’s legs don’t loosen at all. “This is ours. We can’t do this.”   
  
Credence closes his eyes and sighs before he looks at Graves again. “Okay,” he says. “You’re right. I’m sorry for push—”   
  
Graves kisses him, sweeter, gentler. “You didn’t,” he says as he pulls back. “I would give you more if my circumstances were different.”   
  
“I know,” Credence says and he looks more wry than sad, but there’s still a melancholy air about him. “I hope you know the image of you sitting out in the grass in that white tank top, covered in sweat and cursing at a sprinkler head is what gets to me the most.”   
  
Graves laughs and tips his head back. “Glad to know that’s what does it for you,” he says with a grin. “Text me when you get to Manhattan.” When Credence wrinkles his nose, Graves shakes his head. “You can’t stay here. Neither of us have that kind of self control. But text me. If you want to.”   
  
“I do,” Credence says as he steadily loosens his legs. “And I will. I just… well, I suppose I’ll see you in a few months.”   
  
“And we’ll talk before that,” Graves promises and kisses Credence once more, chastely. “Alright?”   
  
After Credence has nodded, Graves pulls away and walks back to the door, hitting the button to open the garage again. It’s still pouring, but the burst of fresh air helps to clear up his head some.   
  
Credence straightens himself out and meets Graves when he walks to the edge of the garage and stops just before the line of rain. “Thank you, Percy,” he says and smiles faintly. “For spending time with me these last couple months.”   
  
“It’s been my pleasure,” Graves says with a bit of a sigh. “Don’t worry,” he adds, when Credence begins to look vaguely guilty. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”   
  
“I did,” Credence says with a helpless smile. “But I’m sort of glad I did it anyway. Bye, Percy.”   
  
“Have a safe drive down to Manhattan,” Graves says and smiles as Credence pulls up his hood. “Bye, Credence.”   
  
He watches Credence step out into the rain and cross into his yard before he moves further inside and closes the door. He sits back down with the lawn mower and turns the iPad back on, because he needs something to occupy his mind, his hands, before he has to go take a cold shower.   
  
——   
  
Tina doesn’t suspect anything but does declare _temptation gone_ later that evening. Graves doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he fully intends on seeing Credence again, if that’s what he wants, because he thinks her scoldings would take on a different tone. And, frankly, once they’re out of here, it’s not going to be her business anymore.   
  
Graves thinks he would mope around the house for the next two weeks, if he had time for it. But things pick up the next week and he has to organize all the footage they’ve gathered that’s been flagged for review and copy it onto numerous flash drives to send to various entities. It’s a lot of work, for both him and Tina, and they have to make sure the notes they’ve taken match up with what they’ve found.   
  
They won’t have the time for that when they’re back in Manhattan giving witness statements for an entire week or two before everything is out of their hands. Graves looks forward to that day, when he can leave headquarters, go to his apartment and get absolutely smashed over a couple of days off.   
  
After that, he’ll talk to Credence.   
  
They get word they can vacate the home on the seventh of September and they spend the days leading up to it packing their belongings and arranging for people to collect the staged furniture. The cameras will stay up until they’re out of the house, but the raids begin on the fourth and Tina and Graves are glued to their radios, watching the news and hearing from HQ and Seraphina.   
  
It goes the way it’s supposed to, no one dead or shot, only a few injuries, but dozens upon dozens of arrests. Some are law enforcement and Graves and Tina are silent through those, angry despite the fact that they knew it would come.   
  
The neighborhood is in an uproar the next day, everyone standing out on their lawns all day long, discussing the police activity from the day before, speculating if they’re not nodding, knowing they’d always been right about _that_ house.   
  
They’ll likely be even more excited when police come to interview them.   
  
The truck comes on the sixth and with it a multitude of neighbors expressing shock and sympathies that they are leaving after just moving in. Gloria mentions that Credence will be upset to see him gone and Graves tries not to cry, because _madam, I plan on sleeping with your son as soon as possible,_ can’t come out of his mouth.   
  
They say that Tina was offered a job to be started immediately and they’ve secured a temporary apartment near New York City before they find a bigger place and once everyone seems to accept that as a plausible explanation, Graves is finally able to shake everyone’s hands and be rid of them forever.   
  
Except for the Roses, maybe, who he’s more fond of these days. Graves does share a beer with Tony and they commiserate about the loss of friendly neighbors. He shakes his hand and Gloria’s as well, and spends one last night in the house.   
  
He’s still not fond of it but he does pat the wall on his way out on September 7th and walks with Tina down the driveway.   
  
“Well, Missus Reid,” he says and smiles as she snorts. “This has been an unfortunately unforgettable experience.”   
  
“Honestly, sir, I’m elated I never have to call you my husband again,” she says quietly as she opens the door to the Rover and gets in. “Just felt wrong.”   
  
“I can assure you the idea of having _any_ wife has only given me nightmares. Good practice for you though,” Graves says with a smirk. “For when you and Newtonian finally get hitched.”   
  
“Next spring, you remember?” Tina asks and smiles sweetly. “Maybe you’ll finally reach adulthood by then and stop calling him that.”   
  
Graves laughs. “Never. Drive safely, Tina,” he says and pulls back so she can close the door. He watches her go before getting into his truck and taking one final look at the house, at the Roses house, before he leaves and doesn’t look back.   
  
He’s stopped halfway down to Manhattan and grabbing a cheeseburger for lunch when he feels his phone buzz. He pulls it out and feels his heart skip a beat, to see Credence’s name.   
  
_So the house across the street was raided and everyone arrested. Mom told me that yesterday. She told me you moved out today. Did you know you were going to that day?_   
  
It doesn’t read angry, but Graves has a feeling there’s anger behind it anyway.   
  
_It’s complicated. Tina got a job offer she couldn’t refuse. We can still see each other._   
  
_Where are you going to be?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Closer than you think. I’m going to be busy for the next couple of weeks but I want to meet with you. If that’s alright._ _  
_ _  
_ _Wouldn’t that be considered a bad idea?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Just for coffee._ _  
_ _  
_ _I have to think about it._   
  
Graves supposes that’s all he can really hope for. He gets back in the truck and drives to Manhattan and starts the beginning of two very long, very tiring weeks.   
  
They’re protected witnesses for now, which makes their statements all the more important, and Graves gives Seraphina’s team all he’s got, because he wants the charges to stick. They don’t think that will be a problem, but they’re going up against organized crime and that’s always trickier.   
  
Besides giving interviews and visiting his own department every day, Graves will not be going back into work regularly until charges are formally filed. There are so many offenders that it will take a while. He has to keep a low profile going in and out of the building, so he takes the back entrance and convinces the Chief to let him keep the truck. The windows are heavily tinted and the boys down at the shop put in lights for him.   
  
He sleeps like a baby in his apartment and stares out of the windows in the mornings, getting familiar with the view once more, and hopes he never has to leave again.   
  
The first day that Graves does not have anything to do, the first day that he is off, he debates calling Credence. But Credence has only agreed to meet, and not said much beyond that. If Graves hadn’t been so busy, he thinks it might have driven him crazy.   
  
But he knows Credence is busy with school too. He remembers the first month back and how it only got worse each year, professors seeming to take delight in how stressed out they could make you.   
  
Graves doesn’t normally do a lot of driving in the city, but since it’s necessary for a while, he decides to go down to his favorite bagel shop on 35th Street before he starts a day of drinking. If it happens to be ten minutes from NYU, well, that’s just a coincidence. His apartment happens to only be fifteen minutes from NYU as well, but he doesn’t think about that.   
  
Of course, life works in strange and mysterious ways, and as Graves is driving down 35th, behind slow traffic, and he looks to his right, he sees the last person he was expecting to see.   
  
Credence is tall and recognizable for it, and he’s got a large camera wrapped around his neck, holding it with one hand so it doesn’t bounce as he walks. And Graves, without thinking, flashes his lights so the person in front of him moves over, but turns them off as he pulls up alongside Credence.   
  
He lowers his window as Credence glances warily out of the corner of his eye, always a good practice when vehicles pull up alongside you on the street, but he recognizes the truck. And when he sees Graves, his eyes go wide.   
  
“Going my way?” Graves calls.   
  
Credence grins, like he can’t help it, and laughs after that, looking up and down the sidewalk before he approaches the truck. “Should I be concerned you knew where I was?”   
  
“I didn’t, in fact. I was going to Best Bagel,” Graves says with a smirk. “They really are the best bagels in Manhattan. Care to join me?”   
  
Credence looks like he’s debating it for a moment before he laughs again and opens the door, climbing in the truck. He pulls his camera off, setting it on his lap. “Why are you in Manhattan?”   
  
“That’s a long story,” Graves says as he bullies his way back out into traffic. “But the short answer is that I live here.”   
  
“You and Tina moved to Manhattan?” Credence asks with surprise. “I thought you would be outside of the city still.”   
  
Graves is a bit nervous, something he isn’t normally, and he thinks about what to say. “I have some things to tell you, Credence,” he says and glances at him. Credence looks a little green, worried now. “I hope it’s not… upsetting, I suppose, when I do.”   
  
“Oh, God,” Credence mutters. “I’d ask if you were married, if I didn’t know you were already.”   
  
Graves chuckles wryly. “We’ll get to that,” he says and shrugs as Credence shoots him a suspicious glance.   
  
He manages to find a space not far from the bagel shop, but he leaves the truck on after he’s parked it and looks at Credence. “Do you mind if we talk in here?”   
  
“Don’t want me making a scene?” Credence asks, with an edge to his tone.   
  
“That’s not it,” Graves says calmly. “I don’t want anyone overhearing.”   
  
Credence frowns as he looks at Graves. He nods and sighs. “Alright,” he says. “I admit I’m… a lot worried.”   
  
“I don’t blame you,” Graves mutters and rubs his hand over his chin. He’s not exactly sure where he should start. Perhaps with the easiest part first. “I’m not married,” he says and shrugs when Credence’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve never been married. Tina and I are friends, but colleagues most of all.”   
  
“So… why were you pretending to be married?” Credence asks slowly, carefully.   
  
“Because we’re police officers,” Graves sighs, because he doesn’t see a delicate way to explain it. Credence’s mouth falls open as he gapes at Graves, somewhere between shock and horror. “I was shot on duty. I was out of work for four months before the DA and my chief decided I could do some surveillance. We had been planning to for a while, in that neighborhood, that’s why that house didn’t sell for so long. We had a hold on it. But they put me and Tina in it and the easiest way to avoid suspicion was to say we were married.”   
  
Credence only continues to stare at him.   
  
“We had cameras on that house twenty-four seven,” Graves says. “Tina and I monitored their activity, gathered evidence, helped to get to the point the DA could get a judge to sign off on raids and search warrants. They’ve almost all formally charged now, but Tina and I won’t be doing much work outside of the office since we’re considered protected witnesses.”   
  
“Are you even allowed to be telling me this?” Credence asks, a little shrilly.   
  
“I happen to trust you,” Graves says with a smirk. “I don’t think you have any ties to organized crime or know anyone that does. It’s up to my discretion anyway, beyond the finer details of the case I can’t talk about until they’re public.” He sighs. “It wasn’t Tina that was stopping me from pursuing you. It was putting my career in jeopardy if I did.”   
  
Credence presses back against his seat and looks out of the windshield for a while. He chews on his lip, not saying anything, and Graves gives him time. Prepares himself for the fact that Credence will likely say this is too much for him. Won’t blame him if he does.   
  
“Is your name even Percy Reid?” is what Credence finally asks, still not looking at him.   
  
“Percival Graves,” Graves sighs. “I do immensely prefer Percy.”   
  
“Percy Graves,” Credence mutters and looks at Graves. “I’m not sure what to say about any of this.”   
  
“I don’t blame you for that either,” Graves says. “I would have preferred to meet you any other way. You’ve been fifteen minutes from my apartment for a while now.”   
  
Credence huffs out a small laugh and looks at his lap. “What kind of work do you do normally?”   
  
“I’m the Captain of my department, so a lot of supervising and paperwork,” Graves says with a wry smile. “Occasionally I’m on the streets, but it’s rare these days. Of course, on one of those rare occasions, I would happen to get shot.”   
  
Credence looks at him with a bit of amazement. “I thought your story was a little fishy but I didn’t expect this,” he says and runs his hands through his hair, which is always a bit mussed up, but now even more so. It’s rather delightful. “So you’re… single.” When Graves nods, Credence wrinkles his nose. “And still interested in pursuing me?”   
  
“If that’s something you want,” Graves says. “But I do understand if you don’t. It’s a different world, having an affair with a married lawyer versus spending time with a police officer. Being in a relationship with one.”   
  
“You don’t often leave the… department though?”   
  
“Not really. If I do, it’s more for events than it is police work.”   
  
Credence purses his lips. “It does feel like you’re a different person, you know,” he says. “You didn’t just take a few criminal justice courses and change focus, did you?”   
  
“Well, no. I took all of them and graduated,” Graves says. “Higher rank and pay guaranteed. I _was_ going to go into law. I wanted to for a long time, actually, but eventually law enforcement started calling to me. I ended up being good at it.”   
  
“I’ve always thought most cops were assholes,” Credence says and smiles as Graves chuckles. “But you and Tina are good people.”   
  
“There are a few of us that exist,” Graves says. “That try to make some change. I became a detective because most patrol units _are_ full of assholes and I also had the mind for it.”   
  
Credence frowns. “There were a lot of cops who got arrested a couple weeks ago,” he says slowly.   
  
“Mhmm,” Graves hums in agreement. “Some I knew. It’s not the first time it’s happened,” he adds, when Credence grimaces. “Disheartening, I know. Sometimes it makes me rethink the badge.”   
  
“You worked hard to get where you are.”   
  
“I did. And I realized a while ago I won’t ever make a damn difference, not unless I’m promoted to Chief, which I’m guaranteed one day once I’m promoted to Assistant Chief after all this, and even then it’s an uphill battle.”   
  
“You sound tired already,” Credence says as he watches Graves.   
  
Graves shrugs. “I am,” he says. “It’s a tiring thing, thinking about striving to go further or leaving it all behind.”   
  
“It’s a lot to think about,” Credence says. “For you _and_ me.”   
  
“And you happen to be much younger than I am. There are better options out there,” Graves says with a chuckle. “But I’m not far, whatever you choose.”   
  
Credence peers at him. “There are other options out there,” he says carefully, “but I’ve only been thinking about you. Even after all of this, I’m thinking about you. And I did want more, even when I thought that was impossible. I still need to think about it.”   
  
“Whatever you need to do,” Graves says with a smile. “You still want to go in with me?” He gestures ahead at the bagel shop.   
  
“Yeah,” Credence says with a smile. “I am hungry.”   
  
“Then let me buy you breakfast,” Graves says and turns the truck off, getting out when it’s safe. He meets Credence on the sidewalk and they walk to the shop and order food and coffee.   
  
There’s one table left and they sit down. “How’s school been going?” Graves asks.   
  
“Good,” Credence says. “Really busy getting everything together for my thesis.” His cheeks turn faintly red. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I was angry for no reason, it turns out.”   
  
“Not necessarily for no reason,” Graves says. “I wasn’t able to tell you the truth.”   
  
“I understand why now,” Credence says and takes a bite of his bagel. “This isn’t a situation I would have ever expected to be in.”   
  
“Me neither,” Graves says and smirks a little. “I thought I’d be miserable in that house. I was, most of the time, when I wasn’t with you.”   
  
Credence smiles, his cheeks still pink, and shrugs. “I spent half of my time with you wishing you’d initiate something, even though it made me feel so guilty. I’m glad that Tina isn’t your wife for that reason too. Though I still feel a little guilty kissing you when I thought she was.”   
  
“You don’t strike me as the type of person that would kiss many married men.”   
  
“Well, no,” Credence says with a laugh. “But one is enough.” He shrugs his shoulder. “I guess now I don’t have to feel guilty imagining it’s you anymore.”   
  
Graves lifts his coffee as he tsks. “You can’t just drop that kind of thing into conversation,” he says and takes a drink.   
  
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”   
  
“Just my pants.”   
  
Credence laughs and sips on his own coffee, looking out of the window and at the passersby. “I guess we might talk more about that once I’ve had some time to think about it all,” he says quietly. “Thank you for telling me everything though.”   
  
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to.”   
  
When Credence smiles, more warmly than perhaps Graves deserves, he smiles in return, and the conversation is forgotten for now. Credence tells him how his first couple of weeks back have gone and Graves listens attentively, not because it’s polite, but because he is genuinely interested. It should be a bit frightening, just how interested he is in every aspect of Credence’s life, but it really isn’t.   
  
Credence asks the people who own the shop if he can take a few pictures, once he has explained his thesis, and he is so charming about it that none of them end up being staged in any way. They’re people merely enjoying food, smiling and laughing, and Graves watches him, his heart beating in an unfamiliar but entirely welcome sort of way.   
  
Graves asks Credence if he needs a ride anywhere and Credence accepts, as he has class at one. It’s nice, taking Credence to the campus and dropping him off. Credence smiles at him in that way of his, so wide and beautiful, and touches Graves’ hand before he’s gone.   
  
He goes back to the apartment and decides not to drink the rest of the day away, but maybe get a nap in and hit his building’s gym later, to try and work off Rochester and strengthen his leg further.   
  
And, for once, he doesn’t try to push the thought of Credence away. Accepts him with welcome arms, the way he’s always wanted to do, and is content with that, for the time being.   
  
Graves long ago realized he had to have low expectations for just about everything in his life, to avoid getting pissed off or hurt, so he keeps his hopes simmering low, and taps into the patience he has buried somewhere.   
  
——   
  
Over the next week Graves goes into work occasionally and talks to his people, feeling more at home than he has in over six months. Fontaine still gives him shit and Graves gives it back, and Jauncey teases him for the stubble on his face, when he is normally so immaculate in his appearance.   
  
Queenie’s teasing is a little more personal but never too revealing. She works the phones and filing system and once Tina and Graves get back to work, he’ll put her back on first shift. She joined his department the same week Tina did and he never expected to like them the way that he does.   
  
Like two annoying little sisters, most of the time, the way they gang up on him, but life wouldn’t be nearly as fun without them.   
  
Graves is sitting in his office, boots up on the desk, as Queenie sits on the edge of it. She’s giving him a few updates about cases they’re working on and some of the newer ones that have come in in the last few weeks.   
  
“Are you even listening, honey?”   
  
“Hmm?” Graves hums as he looks at her. He frowns. “Of course I am.”   
  
“Then why are you staring at your phone with googly eyes?”   
  
“Googly eyes?” Graves asks with a laugh he can’t help. “I’m listening to you tell me about Mister Donahue’s murder, I haven’t got googly eyes.”   
  
Queenie shakes her head. “Now I know why Tina kept complaining about me all the time before Jacob and I got official,” she says with a smile. “If you want to avoid Lieutenant Fontaine teasin’ you for the next decade, don’t look at your phone that way in front of him.”   
  
Graves sighs and turns his phone around, holding it up to her. “I mean, can you blame me?”   
  
Queenie squints a little before she gasps and grins. “Is that him? What a doll!” she says. “That’s a smile that’s gonna break so many hearts.”   
  
“Mhmm,” Graves hums as he looks at the picture Credence sent him this morning that he hasn’t stopped looking at yet.   
  
A selfie, his computer in the background with hundreds of tiny thumbnails, his thesis so far, and his smile is wide, carefree, and very, _very_ apt for breaking some hearts.   
  
They’ve talked nearly every day, mostly texting, but sometimes over the phone, and Graves is trying not to look too closely into the flirting they do, but it is driving him a little crazy.   
  
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Queenie says with a smile. “Just like Tina did, just like I did. Well, still do, but no—”   
  
“If you think for one moment your sister has abandoned googly eyes for Mister Salamander, I suggest you live with her for two and half months,” Graves says flatly. “Do you know how many pictures of pets I had to see?”   
  
Queenie giggles. “About as many as I had to, I think,” she says. “He’s real nice, you know. Tina’s afraid you’ll bully him until you retire.”   
  
“I have only had the pleasure of meeting him once and he produced not one, but two live kittens from his pockets, in the middle of the floor. Disrupted the entire damn day.”   
  
“I know, honey, I was there,” Queenie says dryly. “They named one of ‘em Gravy, ya know, after you.”   
  
Graves raises his eyebrows as Queenie frowns.   
  
“I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that,” she muses, then shrugs. “Oh well! Looks like you’re about to be busy anyway.”   
  
Graves’ phone is ringing and he glances at it, seeing Credence’s name, nothing dangerous about it anymore. He waits until Queenie has sauntered out of the office and fluttered her hand, closing the door behind herself, before he answers.   
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”   
  
“I liked it better when you answered _Captain Graves,”_ Credence says. “It was a much more interesting conversation starter.”   
  
Graves laughs for a while. “I can go back to it, if you’d like,” he says. “Why _aren’t_ you in class?”   
  
“Professor emailed us half an hour ago and said something about the stars not being aligned so he couldn’t possibly teach,” Credence says breezily. “We’re all pretty sure it’s because he’s hungover.”   
  
“That can certainly ensure stars aren’t aligned,” Graves says and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “That means you have the rest of the day off.”   
  
“It does,” Credence says. “Are you at work?”   
  
“I am, but I’m not technically on the clock until next Monday. You want to grab lunch?”   
  
Credence hums. “Maybe we can get pizza,” he says. “Unless you’re sick of it.”   
  
“I am sick of Rochester pizza. I am never sick of Manhattan pizza,” Graves says as he glances at his watch. “Anywhere in particular you were thinking?”   
  
“We can order _John’s_ in,” Credence says with a bit of hesitation.   
  
Graves is getting used to the leap his heart occasionally makes but it does still throw him off balance. “Sure,” he says. “I’m assuming you mean at my place.”   
  
“I don’t think you’d enjoy the roommate experience.”   
  
“You’re probably right,” Graves says and ignores the flutter in his stomach, another thing to throw him off balance. “Be there in fifteen?”   
  
“Perfect,” Credence says and sounds a little breathless himself. “Bye, Percy.”   
  
Graves hangs up after saying goodbye and shuts down his office computer. He locks up and winks at Queenie as she grins at him from her desk before he makes his way out of the building. He takes the truck out of the garage and onto the streets of Manhattan and pretends he isn’t nervous.   
  
He so rarely is nervous these days, can’t really afford to be, and it makes him uncomfortable, even though he’s fairly sure this is a good thing.   
  
He picks Credence up from the senior residence halls and smiles as he watches him get into the truck, sure he could watch that for the rest of his life. He could watch Credence do the mundane for the rest of his life and never get bored with it, never not delight in it.   
  
After another fifteen minutes, he pulls into his building’s garage and parks. He sees Credence gaping at him and shrugs. “Steeply discounted spot, I promise you,” he says. “Can’t leave this baby out on the street.”   
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head as he gets out of the truck. “I’m trying to figure out how you afford to live here at all.”   
  
Graves scoffs as he locks the truck and leads Credence to the elevator. “My salary may not be Uptown Manhattan-sized, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have what most people have here,” he says and smirks as Credence raises his eyebrows. “Family money. Thank god the old man was too drunk to remember to write me out of his will.”   
  
Credence smiles. “I suppose there’s that,” he says as they step into the elevator. “How long have you lived here?”   
  
“Twelve years,” Graves says and smiles. “That helps too.”   
  
When Credence leans against him, Graves wraps his arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. It’s easy, so easy, and the nerves he felt have completely disappeared, he notes with some amusement. He shouldn't have forgotten just how damn easy it is with Credence.   
  
Graves shows Credence into the apartment, flipping on a few lights, and takes off his breaker. He sees Credence eyeing his gun holster and merely smiles as he walks to his bedroom to deposit it and his badge safely away.   
  
Credence is in the living room when he comes back out, looking out of the large windows that offer a decent view of the city, towering skyscrapers and a bit of the east river. He looks at Graves and smiles. “This is much nicer than the two by two window in my room.”   
  
“My first apartment looked over the roof of a building and the junkyard behind it,” Graves says with a wry smile. “I try not to take this view for granted.”   
  
It isn’t hard to put his arm around Credence again, when he leans into him, and Graves closes his eyes briefly. Torture, absolute torture, to not be able to do this with him for over two months, and he’s a little paranoid about ruining it before it even begins.   
  
He’s never really had the desire to keep something going for a long time, but he finds that’s all he wants with Credence. He wants to see him here, in his apartment, as often as he can, and he wants to pick him up from NYU, wants to hear about his days, wants to share his life with him.   
  
It makes Graves’ heart beat just a little harder, with something that’s probably way too soon to name.   
  
“Percy?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“I think I’d like to stop just imagining it’s you.”   
  
Graves blinks and looks at Credence. His cheeks are faintly pink and he’s biting his lip, still looking out of the window, and Graves turns toward him. He puts his finger under his chin until Credence looks at him.   
  
“I thought you wanted pizza.”   
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head, moving his hands to Graves’ shirt, gently grasping the material in his hands. “After,” he says and smiles. “Please.”   
  
“Well,” Graves says with a smile. “I think we can manage that.”   
  
If Graves thought they’d have to find the passion they had in the garage, he’s proven wrong when Credence kisses him. It’s sweet, the way Credence is, but it becomes hungrier, more demanding, and Graves cups the back of his neck and digs his fingers into his lower back.   
  
He kisses Credence’s jaw and neck when they break apart and bites his skin, because Credence had liked it before, and his breath hitches now, his hands sliding under Graves’ shirt and up along his back.   
  
“Please tell me you have a condom,” Credence whispers and gasps when Graves begins to suck a bruise on his neck.   
  
“I should,” he chuckles when he pulls away and presses a gentler kiss to Credence’s lips. “Come on.”   
  
They walk hand in hand to the bedroom and Credence gazes around as Graves opens his nightstand and digs around. He finds a condom and a bottle of lube and holds them up victoriously.   
  
“Good,” Credence says as he laughs. “I really, _really_ need you to fuck me.”   
  
Graves chuckles. “I will gladly, _gladly_ do so,” he says. “I’ve been imagining it for long enough.”   
  
Credence unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down his narrow hips and Graves watches him, looks at the well-defined bulge in his boxers and hums in approval.   
  
“Beautiful,” he says and tosses the condom and lube onto the bed. He walks to Credence and moves his hands to the bottom of his hoodie, but Credence quickly stops him.   
  
There’s a bit of fear in his eyes and Graves frowns, because that’s not what he wants to see, not ever. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “It’s alright.”   
  
Credence closes his eyes before he looks at Graves and sighs. “I know,” he says. “It’s just embarrassing.”   
  
“What is?”   
  
“I wear the clothes I do for a reason,” Credence mumbles. “Because if I don’t people stare.”   
  
Graves watches him, moving his hand to Credence’s cheek and brushing his thumb along it. “The only reason I’m going to be staring at you is because I find you to be stunning,” he says and smiles as Credence wrinkles his nose. “But you can keep it on too. I’d rather you didn’t, but if it makes you more comfortable, by all means.”   
  
“I kind of want to make this more than a one time deal,” Credence says. “But thank you. I’ve only been with two people before and they both thought it was weird I wanted to keep my shirt on when we had sex.”   
  
“Not everyone has experienced what you did,” Graves says. “Nor what I did.” Credence looks at him, eyes suspiciously bright, and Graves leans in to kiss the corner of one of them. “I’ll show you mine and you decide if you want to show me yours.”   
  
Credence smiles. “Alright,” he says quietly. “Though I think I’ll find you pretty stunning too no matter what.”   
  
“See?” Graves says with a smile. “You see your imperfections as unattractive and I see them as perfections.”   
  
He pulls his shirt and tank top off and sees Credence looking over the lines of his tattoo, his eyes a little darker. Graves chuckles and pulls his belt off, but after he unbuttons and unzips his pants, Credence covers his hands with his own.   
  
Credence takes over from there, pulling Graves’ pants down from his hips and brushing his fingers over his bulge, half-hard, but quickly responding to Credence’s touch.   
  
Credence palms him until Graves tips his head back and groans. He pulls Graves’ boxers down and Graves looks at him again, sees the hunger in his gaze, as he wraps his hand around the base. He strokes once, slow, from base to tip and Graves hisses a little.   
  
“Fuck,” he whispers. “The things you do to me.”   
  
“The things I do to you?” Credence asks as he leans in and presses open-mouthed kisses along Graves’ neck and shoulder, pressing his teeth against his heated skin. “I had a couple toys at home. Sometimes after we’d spent a while together, I’d go home, take my time, and wish it was you.”   
  
Graves thinks he might be done in by that thought alone. Credence lying in his bed, trying to be quiet, fingers buried in his ass and a toy not long after.   
  
“That… is something I’d love to watch you do someday,” Graves says, voice low with arousal. “But right now, I want to give you it. How do you want it?”   
  
Credence bites his lip, his eyes half-lidded. “I want to ride you,” he says. “After you get me ready for it.”   
  
“Take those off and get on the bed,” Graves says. “On your knees.”   
  
Credence’s cheeks are red but he laughs. “Yes, Captain,” he says cheekily and drops his boxers. He gets onto the bed and Graves has to close his eyes for a moment, when he gets on his knees, resting his head on the pillow, his arms under it.   
  
“Shit,” Graves mutters and gets into bed behind Credence, grabbing the bottle of lube. The sight in front of him is spectacular and he thinks he won’t be recovering from it any time soon. “How long has it been?”   
  
Credence hums. “Since someone else? A year ago, about. The beginning of my junior year,” he says. “Just a few weeks of sex. But don’t worry, the toys I have have seen overtime in the last couple weeks.”   
  
Graves laughs as he moves his hand over Credence’s pert ass, his skin smooth and so very pale. “You let me know if it hurts still,” he says and leans in, kissing Credence’s left cheek. He sits up more and opens the lube, getting a generous amount on his fingers and brushing them down the cleft of Credence’s ass.   
  
Credence hisses and closes his eyes, biting his lip and Graves watches him as he spreads the lube around his hole. The way his brow furrows and how he licks his lips, red and full, and when he slides his finger into him, how his mouth opens with a moan.   
  
He truly is stunning and Graves knows there’s no going back after this. Not for him. He wants this with Credence, often, and everything else too.   
  
Graves strokes his finger in and out, curling it and rubbing against Credence’s prostate, until he begins to squirm, and when he gasps Graves’ name, he leans down to kiss his hot skin and slides two fingers in.   
  
“Percy,” Credence whines and his hips buck. “That feels so good. Better than I imagined.”   
  
“Good,” Graves says and reaches up, pulling Credence’s hoodie back, because it’s sliding up his back.   
  
Credence looks back at him then, his eyelids heavy and shrugs. “I kind of want you to do this to me for the rest of my life, so maybe it doesn’t matter so much. Just… just please don’t say anything about it.”   
  
“I won’t, sweetheart,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s lower back. He can see the faint lines of white scars but that’s not what he wants to pay attention to right now. He strokes Credence’s prostate until he’s moaning again and reaches between his legs, wrapping his hand around Credence’s cock, long and heated and perfect, the way everything about him is.   
  
“Fuck,” Credence gasps when Graves strokes him and thrusts his fingers in and out. “Oh, fuck. Oh, God… slow down or you’re gonna make me come.”   
  
“You can hold out longer than that,” Graves teases and smirks as Credence whines at him. But he does let go of Credence’s cock and moves onto his knees, bending over Credence’s back, his own cock between Credence’s legs as he keeps thrusting his fingers. “You’re perfect, Credence,” he says, against the back of Credence’s neck, kissing him after.   
  
Credence presses his forehead against the pillow and groans, gutturally. “Percy,” he whispers. “I want you in me. Please, I’ve never… I’ve never wanted to be with someone more. Please fuck me.”   
  
“Soon,” Graves says and grabs the lube again. He adds more to his fingers and pushes a third one in easily, smiling when Credence gasps.   
  
He’s squirming more and the way his ass is tilted makes Graves want to fuck him like this, but they’ve got all the time in the world for that. He rubs his prostate again and Credence’s moan sounds broken.   
  
“Stop teasing me,” he says in between gasps. “Lay down so I can ride you. Please, Percy.”   
  
“Alright, darling,” Graves says with a chuckle. He pulls his fingers out of Credence and moves onto his back, watching him as he sits up, his hair sticking up everywhere and his cheeks flushed with pleasure.   
  
Credence is going to be the death of him one day, Graves knows, but he doesn’t mind.   
  
It’s Credence who rolls the condom on and slicks him up, mumbling praise as he does so, shier with it but all the more charming for it. When he straddles Graves’ waist, he reaches down and pulls his hoodie and shirt off, tossing them aside, and Graves looks him over, bare now, with a groan.   
  
The scars on his back aren’t from him, he knows, but he thinks the ones on his shoulders and wrists are, and maybe Credence will tell him about them someday, but they’re not what’s important right now.   
  
“Fucking beautiful, Credence,” Graves says as he holds onto his hips.   
  
Credence bites his lip. “So are you,” he says and moves his hands along Graves’ stomach, up and over his chest, his tattoo, and some scars too, burns and cuts not earned on the job. But he doesn’t say anything about those either and his half-mangled thigh doesn’t seem to be a bother.   
  
Maybe Credence believes what Graves had said. Imperfections to themselves, perfections to each other.   
  
Graves watches Credence reach back and feels his hand on his cock, holding it steady as he lines himself up. He takes it slowly, something Graves is immensely relieved by, his brow furrowed in concentration. When the head of Graves’ cock slides in, he only frowns a little and shifts, until he moves steadily down.   
  
The idea that he’s regularly fucking himself is one Graves is going to have to explore in great detail with him one day.   
  
“Fuck,” Graves groans and tilts his head back against the bed as Credence seats himself. His mouth is open and he’s trembling a little when he reaches back to grasp at Graves’ legs and hold himself steady.   
  
“Percy, your cock is perfect,” Credence says and the first roll of his hips draws a moan out of them both. “You’re everything I knew you’d be.”   
  
Graves smiles through the pleasure, though the tight heat around him is more than distracting. He wants to tell Credence _so are you,_ but that’s not quite true. Credence is more than he thought he’d be and he already thought he’d be perfect. He’s not nearly as skinny as he seemed drowning in hoodies, his body a little more solid, and he moves with more confidence than Graves had been expecting.   
  
“You’re remarkable, Credence,” he says and grins lazily as Credence huffs at him. “You are… ohh fuck…”   
  
Credence moves then, a gentle slide up and down, until he finds a rhythm that works for him, and it’s faster then. His fingers are tight against Graves’ legs and he tries to think of that, because watching Credence ride his cock, his own hard and leaking between his legs bouncing with the movements, threatens to unravel him very quickly.   
  
But praise boils out of him instead, as he grips Credence’s hips, helps him when he loses the rhythm for a slide or two. He tells Credence he’s beautiful, outside and even more beautiful inside and that he wants this, wants this for as long as Credence does, because he is incredible and Graves would be proud to have him at his side.   
  
Credence moans and gasps Graves’ name and tilts his head back, the long line of his neck as gorgeous as the rest of him, but it all seems to get overwhelming for him. He leans down and kisses Graves, trembling in his arms when he wraps him up in then.   
  
He bends his knees a little and thrusts up and it’s not slow or gentle and Credence’s moans are loud and broken, against his neck, near his ear, moaned against his shoulder.   
  
Kissing isn’t easy like this, so Graves gently tips Credence’s head back and sucks a bruise on his neck, groaning against him. Credence’s hands hold tightly onto his upper arms and his moans become hoarse, more desperate.   
  
“I want to come,” he says, gasping at a particularly hard thrust, his nails digging into Graves’ skin. “ I want to watch you come too. Oh, fuck!” he cries as Graves slides his hands down and spreads Credence’s ass cheeks more.   
  
Graves pulls away from his neck and tips his head back, groaning as he fucks Credence, the harsh slap of skin on skin loud in the room. His balls are tightening and he digs his fingers into Credence’s ass.   
  
“Percy, come inside me,” Credence says in between heaving breaths, looking down at Graves, his lips parted in pleasure, eyebrows drawn down as he moans. “Please!”   
  
It’s not a request Graves can deny and he slides a hand up Credence’s wet back and holds his shoulder to keep him still as he thrusts up a few more times, until his orgasm hits him.   
  
Graves grunts at the power of it before a long, drawn out groan is pulled from him, his cock throbbing inside of Credence, filling the condom with come. Credence watches him through it and the look of bliss on his face must be a reflection of what’s on his own.   
  
He sags back against the bed when he’s done, with another groan and, panting, says, “Sit up, Credence, let me take care of you.”   
  
Credence moves up, his thighs trembling and he reaches back to hold Graves’ legs again and that’s a view so good Graves is going to ask to see it again and again.   
  
He wraps his hand around Credence’s cock, leaking and hard, and strokes him. His other hand lands on Credence’s hip and he encourages him to roll them and Credence does, Graves’ cock still buried in him.   
  
“Fuck yes,” Credence hisses as he grinds down against Graves. He strokes him harder, faster, and Credence moans. “Just like that, Percy… oh, oh fuck... oh _fuck!”_   
  
Graves watches Credence hit his peak, feels his cock pulsing in his hand, his come falling across his belly and ribs, then dribbling down hot over his knuckles. He’s beautiful, so, so beautiful, in everything he does.   
  
But this is a little more sacred, because only Graves gets to see him like this now.   
  
Credence goes boneless when he finishes and Graves lets him go so he can sag forward, pressing his arm against Graves’ chest and dropping his forehead onto it, so he doesn’t smear the mess between them.   
  
Graves chuckles and reaches up, running his clean hand through Credence’s hair, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. “You alright?” he asks and smiles as Credence looks up at him, cupping the nape of his neck.   
  
“Just fine,” Credence says and grins when Graves raises his eyebrows. “Just feel like I’ve been really thoroughly fucked is all.”   
  
“I know the feeling,” Graves says and smirks a little. “Let me get this condom off and cleaned up.”   
  
“Are you coming back to bed after?” Credence asks with a smile, but there’s something in his eyes that Graves doesn’t like.   
  
He leans in and kisses Credence’s nose. “Of course I am,” he says. “Get comfortable. We’ll order pizza in a while.”   
  
Credence nods and he gingerly rolls off of Graves and onto his back next to him, sighing softly. “This bed is… infinitely better than the one in my senior apartment.”   
  
Graves chuckles as he gets up and ties off the condom, tossing it in the bin. “You’re welcome in it whenever you’d like,” he says and winks at Credence as he walks into his bathroom.   
  
After cleaning himself up, he gives another warm washcloth to Credence to do so as well and climbs back into bed next to him. Once Credence has tossed the washcloth aside, he wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him closer, kissing his cheek.   
  
He thinks someone might not have treated Credence well when it comes to this, or at least not well after it, and it makes him angry, the amount of people that have hurt him. He knows well what Credence is worth and the idea that other people never saw that makes him want to bang down doors.   
  
Credence seems hesitant to do more than hold his arm, so Graves slings a leg over his and moves his hand to his cheek, pulling him closer and kissing him.   
  
It’s softer than any others have been, sweeter, and he hopes it says what he means.   
  
That he wants to keep Credence at his side, for as long as Credence wants that too, and that he’ll cherish him every moment he has him. Preferably forever, but he’s still a pessimist.   
  
Credence curls up closer after that, against his chest, and Graves holds him and runs his hand along his back. He feels the scars, some thin and others thicker, but Credence doesn’t flinch or hide away and Graves doesn’t linger on any of them.   
  
“Percy?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“You said you wanted to be in a relationship with me.”   
  
“I did say that,” Graves says and his heart races faster. Credence’s hand is on his own back and he’s tracing shapes against his skin, nervous, maybe, and Graves is glad he isn’t looking at him, because he’s nervous too.   
  
“What does being in a relationship with you look like?” Credence asks, his breath warm against Graves’ chest.   
  
“A lot of this,” Graves says and smiles when Credence tsks. “It looks like something I have to keep out of the precinct for a year because I want you safe. A year that I’m not allowed to be out in the public eye so noticeably myself. But it also looks like you meeting my friends and maybe Tina, officially, when she’s finished dressing me down anyway. It looks like you coming here whenever you want because I want to spend time with you as often as I can. It looks like taking you to dinner and breakfast and cooking for you. It looks like meeting your friends, maybe, if that’s what you want. It looks like movies and pizza and fucking and maybe, just a little bit, being in love.”   
  
Credence is smiling, he can feel it against him. And when Credence looks up, he’s dazzling, bright and happy, and his eyes are a little wet, but that’s alright. Graves merely kisses the corner of one and Credence laughs and holds onto Graves’ shoulder.   
  
“That sounds like a good relationship,” Credence says as he gazes at Graves. “The best kind.” He bites his lip. “What’s it look like a year from now? When you’re allowed to be a police captain in the public eye again?”   
  
“I don’t know that exact picture,” Graves says honestly. “But it’s not as pretty as the other one.”   
  
Credence nods, like he expected that. “An uphill battle,” he says quietly.   
  
“Mhmm,” Graves hums. “And it doesn’t promise to be without casualties.” He rubs Credence’s back and sighs. “But I did tell you I was thinking of leaving it all behind.”   
  
“I don’t want you to do that for me,” Credence says quickly. “Not at all. You worked so hard to get where you are.”   
  
“It’s a good thing I wouldn’t be doing it all for you then,” Graves says and smiles as Credence frowns. “I’d be doing it for you, me, us, my sanity, my moral code, and I’d be doing it because it felt right. These crackdowns have happened a lot over my career, well before I knew you, and I suspected one day I wouldn’t want to be a part of it anymore. I’ve seen two of my previous Captains, a Lieutenant and a Chief of Police I’ve worked closely with fired or thrown in prison. Not to mention the countless patrol guys, and not counting fellow detectives in homicide, until I was promoted and able to clear my department out on my own.”   
  
Credence reaches up and tangles his fingers in Graves’ hair, running along his scalp, something that feels delightfully good. “You wouldn’t make anyone angry if you left?”   
  
“Crooked cops?” Graves asks and smiles when Credence nods. “No. Getting shot and being chained to my desk for a year will be a valid excuse to anyone that I want something different. But I wouldn’t be worried about that otherwise either. It’s not quite like the movies.”   
  
Credence smiles. “Your department would be okay without you?”   
  
“Yeah,” Graves says. “I trust my Lieutenant with my life. He’ll be a good Captain, keep the floor running like I do. I’d still see Tina and her sister, I’m friends with them both.”   
  
“What would you do?”   
  
“Get back into law, I suppose. My first dream,” Graves says with a smirk. “I’ve got the criminal justice degree, which should be good enough still to get me into law school.”   
  
“Criminal prosecution?” Credence asks with amusement.   
  
“Maybe,” Graves says. “Sera would love that.” He shakes his head when Credence frowns. “District attorney who’s going to roast these assholes alive in the next couple years.”   
  
“You’re friends with the DA?”   
  
“Of course. All that surveilling I did for a couple months went straight to her. I have had the advantage of knowing her since junior high though.”   
  
“Maybe she could write you a letter of recommendation for law school.”   
  
Graves laughs. “She would lord that over my head for the rest of my life,” he says and smiles. “She’d like you. Couldn’t tell her how we met until after I leave the department though.”   
  
“We didn’t do anything though,” Credence says as he laughs. “You wouldn’t let me.”   
  
“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t skin me alive,” Graves says and smiles. “So, Mister Rose? Have I overwhelmed you yet?”   
  
Credence grins. “Yes,” he says. “But I think I can work with it. For now I’d rather focus on the movies and pizza and fucking and maybe, just a little bit, being in love.”   
  
Graves chuckles and leans in, pressing his forehead against Credence’s. “Alright then,” he says quietly. “Stay with me tonight? I’d like to sleep next to you.”   
  
“Yes, please,” Credence says. “Pizza?”   
  
“Ready when you are.”   
  
It’s hard to let Credence go, but after they get dressed, they only move to the sofa and Graves calls and orders pizza. He lets Credence pick out a movie on Netflix and wraps his arm around his shoulders and kisses the side of his head.   
  
The next year will be good, Graves suspects. It’s easy with Credence, always has been, and one day he’ll have to make big decisions, but he hopes Credence will be at his side to make them with him. But that’s a long time from now.   
  
For now his biggest concern is building a relationship with Credence, building it strong and sure, but when he looks at him and gets that dazzling smile again, he thinks that’ll be easy too.   
  
Graves thinks about texting Sera to thank her for picking him for duty in Rochester, but Credence is holding his hand and resting his head on his shoulder and it seems like such a shame, to disturb him.   
  
“Percy?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“I know you didn’t like Rochester. But I’m glad you showed up there anyway.”   
  
“Me too, love,” Graves sighs. “Me too.”   
  
Credence smiles at him then and Graves can do nothing but kiss him and hold him tight and think he’ll never let him go.   
  
Rochester and suburbia didn’t kill him.   
  
It turns out they only gave him a reason to keep going, to keep fighting, for what’s right and for what he wants for himself, and for what he wants to give Credence.   
  
A home with him and a good life together, whatever that turns out to be, one where Credence never has to be troubled by what someone might think of him because Graves will always think the world of him.   
  
He’ll tell Credence that, later and often, but for now he kisses him and thinks about today.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this fic last month and only needed to finish the end. I have too many wips for Gradence piling up so I wanted to wrap it up and I also have a demon!au done too, but I'm nervous to post that one lol ._. also this was 100% inspired by a single gif of CF in fright night.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and I'd really love to hear from you! Thank you!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire), a true gem of a person and friend. And thank you, Mom, as well, for reading my fics and supporting me!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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